


Breaking the Barrier

by floorcoaster



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Hogwarts Inter-House Unity, Speed Dating, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-12 07:33:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 22,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29381406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/floorcoaster/pseuds/floorcoaster
Summary: The teachers at Hogwarts have instructed the student leaders to plan and coordinate events throughout the year to encourage "Interhouse Unity and Cooperation." Hermione thinks the Valentine's Day scheme is a little ridiculous--but also possibly their best idea yet. There's no telling who she might end up meeting.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 64
Kudos: 306





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> THANK YOU to my forever-beta, dreamsofdramione. Thank you to somandalicious and inadaze22 for joining in on title brainstorming, which, let's be real, is usually harder than writing the whole story. Oh, and thanks to dreamsofdramione for the idea which... kind of exploded on me. It wasn't supposed to be this long, but, what are you gonna do, am I right? 
> 
> Beautiful story graphic by (guess who?) dreamsofdramione. YOU are the best. /gushing

This was probably the worst idea yet.

Hermione scoffed as she hurried through the Great Hall, which was filled with an abundance of red, white, pink, and purple balloons among other decorations. It had been Seamus's idea, of all people, and as soon as he'd explained it, all the girls had dissolved into fits of giggles and hysterics. He'd heard about it from his Mum.

Valentine's speed dating.

At Hogwarts.

For the Sixth, Seventh, and Eighth Year students.

_What rubbish!_

But as her position in the school was unofficial—there was a Head Girl from amongst the Seventh Year students—she felt she needed to attend in order to support not only her fellow students, but the teachers and staff who'd expressed a keen desire to see the different houses mixing.

_Interhouse unity, my arse_ , she thought.

It wasn't _her_ fault that the Slytherins were irascible and impossible to work with. It was already February, and the only Slytherins she'd managed to exchange anything approaching a civilized conversation with were Daphne Greengrass—whom Hermione thought had the potential to be something of a friend, if the other girl would ever let even a single brick in her wall fall—and Draco Malfoy—who, much to both of their displeasures, had been paired with her on three separate school projects so far. Those interactions had been strained at best, and they'd exchanged the absolute bare minimum in terms of communication. By the end of the third assignment, she and Draco had perfected the art of one or two word sentences; granted, they were laced with hand gestures and facial expressions to fully convey meaning.

They all seemed perfectly content to remain in their own bubble and leave Hogwarts without a single new friend.

The Headmistress had asked her student leadership team to come up with events for the oldest students designed to bring them closer together. So far, the Halloween Masquerade Ball and the Christmas Secret Santa exchange had failed miserably.

Why anyone thought the speed dating scheme would fare any better, she couldn't understand.

But she didn't need to understand. She'd done her part in planning and now had only to attend the bloody thing. While every other single witch in the upper years went all out for the occasion, Hermione had been content to wear her school robes. Unfortunately, Ginny had refused to let her out of her dorm dressed that way and had hounded Hermione into choosing something else. When none of Hermione's clothes sufficed, Ginny altered a dress of her own. It was red, which, on one hand, was a very flattering color on Hermione, but, on the other, was one of the principal colors of the blasted holiday.

The last thing she needed or wanted to do was to sit across from fellow classmates and see if they could form a connection in seven minutes or less as though she hadn't already been interacting with most of them anyway. What could these contrived circumstances possibly reveal that hadn't been already?

But it _was_ required, so she plastered on a fair smile and found Dominique, the Head Girl, who was standing in the middle of the room, directing fairy lights towards the balloon-crowded ceiling.

"Oh good, Hermione, you're here!" Dominique seemed relieved. "I'm having such a time getting the boys to behave." She shot a scathing look at her counterpart, Jacob, who was across the room, showing off to some of the Prefects.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "What can I do?"

"Will you check on the charms? We can't have anything go wrong on that front, and I'd feel so much better if you looked at them."

"Of course."

"Every table has the same set: voice modulation, anonymity charms, a shimmery field down the middle of the table to block the sight..."

"Right. I'll get started." Hermione gritted her teeth; she _had_ been at every single meeting to discuss the event and knew perfectly well which charms were involved.

Dominique sighed. "We're on track to begin in forty minutes, but I'm awfully anxious."

"Everything will be fine, don't worry." Hermione patted her twice on the shoulder, then turned away to see to her task.

When they finally opened the doors to let the rest of the Sixth through Eighth Years in, even Hermione had to admit the Great Hall was breathtaking. The teachers had lent some of their skills, and the room shone with soft white light. Someone had decided to change all the balloons to white, which was a vast improvement, and the additional fairy lights looked like stars.

Dozens of small tables were sprinkled throughout the room, each covered with a white tablecloth and an arrangement of candles and flowers. It was, to Hermione's grudging admission, lovely.

Even the Head Boy had straightened up, and Hermione suspected he wished the Head Girl would notice him. But she was all business, as she should be, and stood straight while the other students filed in. They had all dressed up, especially the girls, but for the life of her, Hermione couldn't understand why. Nobody in attendance was a stranger; these were all fellow students they saw every day, _and_ they would be behind privacy screens. She supposed it was for the part of the evening after the speed dating.

Dominique called everyone to attention. "The procedure for tonight is simple. We'll begin with the speed dating portion of the night. We're going to split you into four groups. Groups one and two will begin the evening sitting at tables, one person per table. Groups three and four will move from one table to the next. This isn't necessarily about finding a romantic partner, but we ask that you use it as a chance to talk to people you probably wouldn't otherwise. You'll have five minutes to interact with each other, then one minute to find your next table. If, at any time, one of you wants to continue your conversation, you can press a button on your side of the barrier. If your companion presses his or her corresponding button, then you may cease the remainder of the dates and remain together."

Dominique paused and took a short breath. "After everyone from groups three and four has sat down with everyone in groups one and two, then group one will stand up, and group three will take their places at the tables. This will be the chance for those who were sitting for the first stage to interact with each other, and those who were walking around to interact. Once everyone has had a chance to sit down with everyone they want, the game will end. Those of you who find partners you want to spend more time with, a special dinner will be served to you at your tables. Your identities will not yet be revealed."

A lot of students exchanged looks. The anonymity was likely both frightening and freeing. As much as she loathed forced social gatherings, this one was well thought-out, and Hermione had high hopes for her fellow classmates. This was a real chance for them to dive beyond first impressions and small talk and get to the heart of someone else. She had her list of probing questions ready, just in case Dominique had decided at the last minute not to provide them for everyone, as was the plan. But perhaps even more important was the chance to potentially hear from people she wouldn't otherwise speak to. Despite being a huge proponent for interhouse unity, she mainly kept to her own set of friends.

Of course, the idea that she could only have dinner with one person was disappointing, and she'd definitely want to keep track of the people she connected with.

"We'll be keeping a record of everyone you press a button for, and in the end, you'll be able to learn who interested you tonight. Again, this isn't about romantic partners, even though you'll be able to have a one-on-one dinner with someone, should you choose. But we hope you'll find lots of people interesting and want to continue growing the connections you make tonight. After dinner, we'll lower the barriers to reveal everyone's identities when dessert is served. At the end of the night, there will be dancing and general mingling. If you have any questions at any point, don't hesitate to ask either myself, Jacob, or any of the Prefects. Or Hermione Granger and Neville Longbottom, of course."

Hermione tried not to be annoyed that she and Neville were mere afterthoughts, but she continued with her manufactured smile.

Dominique and Jacob began dividing the groups. Hermione was put into group one, which meant she'd be starting the evening at a table. She'd brought a book along, just in case, but she was hopeful that she wouldn't feel the desire to reach for it. As people began sitting, she felt a strange excitement to begin. Who knew, she might find a new friend.

Or—dare she think it?—someone she might find interesting in a romantic way. She couldn't imagine this scenario though; after all, she already knew who all the boys were.

Hermione took her place at a table and sat waiting. The two groups who'd been sitting soon approached; they had no idea who was on the other side of the magical barriers.

Someone sat down across from her and the large hourglass suspended over the staff table flipped over.

"Hello!" Hermione called cheerfully, then started at the sound of her voice. It was similar to her own, but unrecognizable. This was truly happening.

Her companion shuffled under the table, and she peeked to see if she could get any information from doing so. The barrier extended down to the floor, but she guessed it was probably a bloke.

"Hi."

Hermione strained her mind, hoping for a sign of recognition, but none came; though, the voice modulation charm confirmed it was a young man. She sat up straight and read the first question from her list on the table.

"What is one subject you would add to the curriculum and why?"

Her companion snorted. "That's stupid. Is that really a question?"

She could see through the barrier enough that she could tell he'd picked up his list of questions and was scanning them.

"We only have a few minutes. Is there anything on there you'd rather discuss?"

He scoffed. "I've got my own question. What color are your knickers?"

Hermione's brows shot up, and she gaped slightly. The wizard chuckled, apparently quite pleased with himself. She wished there was an eject button she could press. She had no desire to sit with him for even a second longer, but since she had no choice, she wasn't going to let him go without telling him off.

"Something tells me you aren't going to end up having a nice dinner with someone."

"Ask me if I care. But I have a feeling I'll get more positive responses than you think."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Well, I couldn't care less. I'm going to ignore you for the remainder of our time." She removed her book from her bag and proceeded to read, though she was so annoyed it was largely futile.

When the timer dinged, the wizard shot out of his seat, and Hermione breathed a sigh of relief.

Half an hour later, she was beginning to feel very discouraged. So much for having an interesting conversation. Her 'dates,' for lack of a better word, all seemed determined not to participate. She was on the verge of walking out as she waited for someone to sit down but didn't decide quickly enough.

"Hello there!"

This was a witch, and she seemed in pleasant spirits. Hermione felt mildly hopeful. "Hello."

The other girl picked up her paper. "These questions are alright, I suppose. But I have one to ask you that's not on the list."

"Go ahead."

"Have you been to Paraguay?"

Hermione blinked in surprise, then immediately had a guess about who this was. "I can't say that I have."

"That's a shame. It's beautiful. It's rumored that the very rare Flibbity Gribbert lives in the jungle there."

"Luna?" Hermione shook her head. "We aren't supposed to say anything that might give us away!"

"But I'm not interested in Hogwarts curriculum or Quidditch or this other rubbish. I want to find someone who might want to go on an expedition with me someday. Why waste time with these absurd questions?"

"I sympathize with you." She had a fair point, and this was perhaps Luna's best opportunity to find someone who might share her passions. Of all the people in the room, Luna was probably dismissed more than any of them, and Hermione knew she really was a fabulous person, despite her oddities. She deserved to be taken seriously by someone. "May I suggest you find a way to get your answers without being so obvious about it?"

"Hm, I see what you mean. Thanks, Hermione."

She gasped. "What—how did you know it was me?"

"There's something in the way you speak that gives you away. Don't worry, I doubt most people would know."

Hermione felt a bit relieved; Luna was one of the most perceptive people she knew, and she trusted her. "Thank you. Though, you're probably not the only person to suspect me. I've told more than one randy bloke off for inappropriate questions."

"That's not at all surprising. We're all going through changes in our minds and bodies, and males are notorious for their preoccupation with sex."

"Yes, well, that doesn't mean they should broadcast every single thought. I, for one, have no interest in hearing it."

The chime went off, and Luna stood. "Good luck tonight."

"You too."

* * *

**ooo**

* * *

When she'd been through about two-thirds of the milling crowd, Hermione was ready to scream. She was using her minute of freedom to internally rage at this horrid idea. So much for hoping for a genuinely enjoyable conversation. Though, she had shared some nice things with a few of the other girls. And she'd known Neville and a few of the other boys despite the efforts at anonymity. It wasn't surprising since they'd been going to school together for years by now.

At the end of the minute, a young man sat down heavily, as though anxious to be rid of the burden of standing. She could relate.

"This whole thing is stupid, and I don't want to participate." She could see the outline of his form as he folded his arms across his chest.

"I wholeheartedly agree."

He snorted. "Do you? You're the first bird I've spoken to who's felt that way. Or admitted it, at least."

"I'd had hopes for the first half hour, but by this point, I've endured no fewer than seven questions about the color of my knickers." She scowled at the barrier, almost daring him to reply. Maybe a good row with someone would make her feel better.

"It's all they think about, you know."

"They?" She narrowed her eyes thoughtfully. "Do you not include yourself in that generalization?"

He shrugged. "I'm not stupid enough to admit it. Those blokes just want to get laid."

"And you don't?" Her voice dripped with skepticism.

"I'm not having this conversation with you."

"Honestly, I'm ready for this to be done." Hermione let out a sigh. This really was the worst way to spend the evening, and it was nowhere near over. "I even brought a book. I've used it a few times."

Something in the air between them changed, though she didn't know what it was. She simply felt it happen. He didn't speak for at least a full minute.

"You've used it?" When he spoke, she didn't feel the shift in his voice.

In fact, she wondered if she'd imagined it. "Yes. Rather than speak to those sods who thought it amusing to inquire about my underwear."

He let out a low chuckle. "I'm sure you showed them."

"So, what have you been doing, then?" She didn't know why she was engaging with him when she'd been at a very tense part of her book.

"Discussing these questions. Though most of my... dates, for lack of a better word, seemed disinterested."

"Fine. Let's discuss—"

"What subject would you like to see added to Hogwarts and why?"

"I wish there was more emphasis on magical art and music. Oh, and history of _interesting_ things, not only goblin wars and endless lists of dates. I think the world is beautiful in all its forms, and I'd like to learn about them from the magical perspective." She immediately blushed. "Sorry, I've been waiting to answer that all night."

"Don't apologize. My answer is literature. Both magical and Muggle. I think there's more to education than book learning."

Hermione gaped at the blurry outline of the wizard. Before she could talk herself out of it, she hit the button. A wave of panic swept over her. But then she relaxed, quickly telling herself that he would never—

A soft pink light came on above them, startling her. She glanced around the room to see if any other table had experienced a similar phenomenon. There was one across the hall, and the two occupants seemed deep in conversation. When she squinted to try and see who was in her group, she recognized Harry. He'd probably found Ginny. Only... No, the girl didn't have red hair.

Interesting.

The chime sounded, but the pair didn't move, likely didn't even notice what was going on.

Her companion didn't move either.

"Did you hit your buzzer?" He sounded truly astonished.

"Yes. Did you?"

"Obviously." There was something about the pull of the syllables that tapped at her memory, but she didn't want to try and figure out who he was. All she knew was that it had been the most pleasant five minutes of the night, and she dreaded having to sit through even one more meaningless interaction. Even if all they did was sit in silence, she'd be happy.

"I don't think I could stand another 'date' tonight." She had an idea and started rummaging through her bag. "I may have another book, if you'd be interested."

"Don't bother." She saw him crane his head, searching the Great Hall. He was probably looking for the Head Girl or Boy, neither of whom were participating, so that they'd be available to help.

She glanced around too and spotted Dominique walking slowly amongst the tables, doing her best to avoid being noticed. Hermione was glad she'd picked a table in the corner, in case they decided they wanted to read instead of interact. The quiet would probably do her good.

The rest of the hall had found new seats, quiet returned, and her partner had returned to facing forward. "Are you sure you don't want a book?"

"I'm pretty sure reading all night isn't allowed. Why don't we look at these questions some more?" He picked up the sheet again. "There were a few I found thought-provoking. And I have a feeling that whoever made these would hate the idea that nobody bothered to even read them."

She smiled, a rush of gratitude welling in her. Whoever he was, he was kind and thoughtful, not to mention he liked to read— _and_ he was open to Muggle literature! If she wasn't careful, she might find herself in danger of developing a slight fancy for him. That was not her plan for the evening, and she'd abandoned even the tiny flicker of hope she'd harbored that it could happen very early in the evening.

"What are two of your strengths? What are two of your weaknesses?"

He chuckled, and she could see him drag a hand through his hair. "Strengths. Let's see. I am stubborn and a bit impulsive."

She let out a barking laugh. "You call those strengths? Most people would see them as the opposite."

"My stubbornness has served me well more often than not. I've applied it in problem-solving to good effect. And I like to think I'm a bit impulsive because I trust myself." He chuckled. "It's not something I've always been, I admit. Your turn now."

"I think two of my strengths are loyalty and focus. As for weaknesses, well, the focus can hurt me if I'm not careful. I tend to get hyper-focused on things, to the point that I sometimes ignore things around me. Including my own needs. And I'm terrified of failure. It can be crippling. It essentially drives me to be the way I am. And it can be exhausting."

"So what you're saying is, your strengths can also be your weaknesses if you're not careful?"

She bit back a small gasp. "I really like that observation. Stubbornness and impulsiveness could easily go either way."

"As can loyalty," he said darkly. "We saw plenty of evidence of that in the war."

"Yes, you're absolutely right. Blind loyalty is extremely dangerous." Her mind naturally went to the Death Eaters and the way they followed Voldemort despite the way he treated most of them, joining him in wanting to rid the world of non-pure-bloods—and probably Muggles, if he'd been able to—despite his own impure blood status.

He didn't say anything, and she wondered what he was thinking. His insight so far was fascinating, and she had a feeling his thoughts, the ones he kept inside, were even more so. She had to bite her lip to keep from prodding on that point.

There was one thing she could ask, however. "You still need to tell me your weaknesses."

He chuckled. "Right. Yes. Those are abundant, I'm afraid. I'd have to say pride is a big one. I also tend to be unbending once I've got an idea or an opinion about something. I will say, though, that I'm actively trying to improve in both. I… was raised in such a way that pride comes too easily. And I've noticed it has permeated a lot of areas of my life, too, making it really hard to fight it."

"It's incredible that you even recognize it and _want_ to fight it."

She saw him shrug, then shift in his chair as though uncomfortable. She imagined he was; the things he was admitting were hard, and he knew that, at some point, they'd learn each other's identities. And he would have to face her knowing what he'd told her.

"Do you think we've finished that one?" He picked up the sheet after a slight lull and began to read the third question without waiting for an answer. "What's your favorite place you've ever been? What is somewhere you'd like to visit?" He sighed again. "I've not been to too many places, but there's this city in France that I love, though I can't really pinpoint exactly why."

Hermione leaned forward on the table, eyes bright. "In France? Which city is it?"

"Lyon. My family went there for holiday one summer. I think that, more than anything, accounts for my fondness for it. After that summer, things got... difficult. It was one of my last really good memories." He didn't elaborate

She wanted to ask more questions, but his tone left no room for further inquiry. The subject was closed. Naturally, she wondered if it had anything to do with the war, since that was the end of so many people's good memories. "I've been there. Lyon. With my parents."

And just like that, her throat felt right, and she didn't want to say anything more either.

After a moment, he broke the silence. "It sounds as though we have something in common."

"Of course we do." Swiping at her eyes, she responded more snappishly then she'd intended. "I think we probably have a lot in common."

"Do you?"

"Yes! People are far more alike than they are different. But we tend to focus on the differences because that's what sets us apart and gives us a well-rounded community. It can turn into a dangerous situation, though, when someone wants to silence or eliminate those they have deemed different."

"I know." His response was so quiet she almost didn't hear it. "This was shown to me in dozens of ways last year, but... For reasons I can't fathom, I was spared having to learn that lesson in a horrible, irrevocable way."

He was definitely talking about the war now.

"Let's do this. I'm going to ask you some questions. Not the ones from the list, simple ones. You just answer yes or no, and then I'll give you my answers, too."

"Alright." He clapped his hands on the table in front of him.

"Do you love your family?"

"Yes."

"As do I. Would you do anything for them?"

"Of course."

"As would I. What if that meant doing something that wasn't exactly right? Would you still do it?" Modifying her parents' memories had been a rash and very ill-advised method of securing their safety, not to mention she'd been underage at the time.

"What are you playing at?" His tone was hard as steel.

"I'm demonstrating our sameness. I'll answer first, if that helps. I absolutely would, under the right conditions." She motioned for him to speak, forgetting for a moment that he couldn't see her.

"I see. Well, then... Yes. I would do almost anything. Or, attempt it, at least."

Hermione was reminded of Draco Malfoy, whose trial she had attended. Hearing him recount the worst days of his life had moved her to tears, and Harry had intervened to ensure Malfoy wasn't punished—at all. Hence why he was back in school. Though, that was part of his sentence, too.

"Do you enjoy food?"

He snorted. "Usually."

"As do I. Dessert?"

"My favorite course." There was a bit of a swagger in this response that made her lip curl in a small smile.

"I like it just fine. We didn't have a lot of sweets growing up, so I can take them or leave them most days."

"Really? What's your favorite, then?"

"Ice cream. Strawberry." Her smile widened. "I had it my first time in Diagon Alley." She groaned instantly, realizing she'd let slip a small clue about herself. Children in magical families likely went to the wizarding part of London from their infancy. She wasn't the only Muggle-born witch at Hogwarts, but there weren't many.

If he noticed her slip, he didn't let on. "Mine is chocolate cake. A good cake, mind you. Not too dry. With chocolate icing on top."

"What kind of cake doesn't have icing?"

"If only all our problems could be solved by discussing our favorite sweets."

He meant it kindly, she could hear the smile on his words, but it was a sad reminder of just how far apart people could be.

She cleared her throat. "It's a fair bet to guess that you enjoy Quidditch."

He scoffed. "Naturally."

"Now see, I enjoy watching it, but I'm not interested in dissecting every move after."

"Let me guess. You would rather dissect your last exam instead."

She opened her mouth to speak, a reply ready on her tongue before his words had even sunk in. Then she laughed. "Oh, brilliant! Yes! Exactly! Maybe we don't enjoy the minute details of the same things, but we both enjoy the process of revisiting things we like."

"So you're admitting to liking exams?"

She sat up and squared her shoulders a little defensively. "I enjoy the process of working hard for something and then seeing the results of my efforts rewarded. Exams happen to do that."

"In big, shiny letters on top, too."

"Precisely."

He chuckled, then they were quiet. "Continue, please. I believe you've gone through six questions so far."

"Do you want you and your loved ones to be treated well? Kindly? Fairly?"

"Is that one or three questions?"

"One."

He heaved a sigh. "Yes, of course."

"Naturally, so do I. Do you sometimes feel that they aren't?"

She saw him ball his hands into fists and wondered what she'd said to upset him so. When he answered, however, his voice was just as steady as before. "Yes."

"Me too." She thought of Snape's treatment of Harry, of Dolores Umbridge, of Sirius. Her own mistreatment since arriving in the wizarding world had been bad at times, as well. There were so many examples it was impossible to list them all. "The problem is—"

"I know already. We see these things differently. My definition of fair might not be the same as yours."

"But we can agree on some major things. Like murder is wrong."

He didn't miss a beat. "Even if it's coerced?"

With a sharp pang, she wondered if she _was_ talking to Malfoy. "Then it's not really murder, is it?"

"I... I suppose not."

"I don't know how we went from this simple Valentine's day interhouse unity exercise to discussing murder and death."

He chuckled, pushing back his chair. "I'm going to stand and stretch for a minute." She noted how tall he stood. This piece of data would help narrow the field of possibilities, but she stopped that line of thinking before she let it loose. She didn't want to know yet. She was enjoying this conversation more than almost any she'd had all year, her mind and heart thrilling with every exchange. Her companion was sharp, witty, thoughtful, and, Merlin help her, she wanted to continue talking to him for as long as possible. The anonymous nature of it was both positive—they could truly interact beyond the superficial—and negative—the longer it lasted, the more she wanted to know who he was.

Her biggest question was: could she develop feelings for him without knowing who he was?

The second question followed naturally: would anything change when she learned his identity?

After stretching his arms and moving around a bit, he sat down. "I believe you've got two more questions in your proof of how we're more similar than we are different."

"All right." Hermione smiled. "Let's see, what's your favorite season?"

"That's... different. But why not? I've always liked summer a lot because my birthday is in June, but the last summer was..."

"Awful." She grimaced. Everything after the war was terrible. Then she realized he'd mentioned his birth month, but she didn't think it would help much, as she didn't know most of the birthdays of the Eighth Years, much less the lower years.

"I'm greatly enjoying the winter. There's been something so refreshing about the pristine quiet of the snow-covered grounds."

She closed her eyes, letting the poetry of his words wash over her. Yes, she could absolutely develop something for him without seeing him first. In fact, if she wasn't careful, it wouldn't take much.

"It makes me feel like... anything is possible. Even something I'd previously thought _im_ possible." He shifted in his chair. "And I really need to be able to believe that such a thing could happen."

"Is this something specific? Or are you speaking in generalities?"

He shrugged. "A little of both, I suppose."

"Well, my favorite season is autumn. It reminds me of new beginnings because that's when we go to school. I think about starting fresh, even if it's just a new school year. But it's all the new books, the new lessons, new responsibilities or privileges. Everything starts over."

"A fresh start." He let out his breath in a long, steady stream. "That's so similar to what I feel about winter."

She smiled to herself. "It's lovely that winter brings it to mind for you, and autumn for me. I can see spring doing something similar, since there's all the new growth, new life happening everywhere. In summer, at least for those of us in school, it's a break. You can put all the mess from the year before behind you, and settle into something completely new. Summers are all about new routines, doing things just for yourself that you couldn't do when you were in school."

He was quiet for a moment, his foot tapping rhythmically. Then he leaned forward. "Let me ask the last question, if I may."

"Go ahead."

"Do you know what makes you happy?"

She sucked in a breath. "That's... wow. Not quite the type of questions I was asking, but it's a great one anyway. Um… I don't know, honestly. I'm only nineteen, and I don't even know what I want to do after Hogwarts. How can I possibly know what makes me happy?"

"But I mean, do you think it would be work? A person? A certain situation?"

"Hm. I think there's a difference between being happy and being content. I think I'd be content in a life that was fulfilling. People can bring happiness, but that's not a guarantee, nor is it a job. I'd hope to be both happy with my relationships and content in my situation." She chuckled a little. "I hope that's not super confusing."

"Not at all. For my answer, it would be finding something to do with my life that honors what I'm good at, what I enjoy doing, but also lets me give back to the wizarding community." He held up a hand and shook his head. "Before you even ask, I'm not saying all of this because I want to impress you or earn points or anything like that. I genuinely mean it. You can believe me or not, it doesn't matter to me. When you find out who I am... if you don't already know... then... Well, I'm not sure it'll make much difference, really. But that's my answer."

"You can't see me, but I'm smiling. I think your goal is amazing, and I can easily identify with it. It's an honorable goal. I wish you the best in your endeavors."

He snorted. "Very formal, don't you think? I mean, we're friends, aren't we?"

A shiver ran through her. "Friends? I don't... I barely know you."

"Maybe. Maybe not. But I'd like to think of you as someone I could be friends with."

"Me too."

But could she? Without seeing him? What if he was someone she didn't like? Well, but wasn't that the point of tonight? To meet people and interact with someone she wouldn't normally spend time with? Would that translate into new relationships? What about all the other people around her? After the disasters at Halloween and Christmas, would this event spark real change?

She could only hope.

"I think we're on question two still." He picked up the list of questions. "Where would you like to visit?"

"Oh, that's a great one. Um, I'd love to visit Venice. I know it's a little... unoriginal, but I've always been fascinated with the canals and the gondolas and the fact that the entire city was built on water. I want to see it. I want to feed the pigeons."

"The what?"

His tone made her laugh. It was full of disgust. "The pigeons. I've only heard about it, but apparently, you can buy food for pigeons and stand in a certain place, St. Mark's Square, and they will land on you and eat out of your hand."

"You do realize pigeons are little more than rats with wings?"

She laughed again, harder this time. "I don't care. It's an experience, and I can wash my clothes afterwards. How about you? You told me your favorite place but where in the entire world do you want to visit?"

"Somewhere high on a mountain. Where I could see nothing but mountain peaks around me. I'd be surrounded by—"

"Snow." She smiled.

"And a pure, timeless view. Mountains don't change. You know?"

"I think I do. It sounds lovely. I've been to the mountains in France, but it was always skiing with my parents. So it was always crowded, and I never really enjoyed it. We'd stay in these big, expensive ski resorts with no personality and lots of amenities. I don't recommend it."

"Skiing? What's that?"

She groaned. Yet another slip, and he definitely caught this one. "Oh. Well, my parents are Muggles. I'm Muggle-born." As had become her habit, she waited for a heartbeat to gauge his reaction; however, without being able to see him, she couldn't get a proper read on it. "Skiing is a Muggle sport. People stand on two long, narrow slats and slide down mountains covered with snow."

"Huh. Without magic? How do they stop?"

"There are ways. It's a skill, like learning to fly a broom. But I'm not particularly good at it or very interested in it" She wanted to see if he would say anything about her revelation. When he didn't, she broached the subject. "I want to ask you something. Will you be honest with me?"

"I've been completely honest the entire evening. I've no intention of changing that now."

Hermione bit her lip, wondering how best to phrase her question. "Alright then. When I told you my parents were Muggles, what was your reaction?"

He didn't respond right away. "I merely accepted the information. It's of no consequence to me what your parentage is."

She let out a sharp breath. "Are you Muggle-born as well?"

"No. Since I'm sure you're curious, I come from a pureblood family. But blood status... it doesn't matter to me. I'll admit that it did, once, but not anymore." There was conviction in his tone, which was curious, but she had to fight the urge to try and actively discover his identity. It wasn't time for that—yet.

Shaking her head to try and physically force the impulse away, she glanced at the list of questions. "We're on the third, I believe. If you became an Animagus, what animal form would you choose and why?"

"These questions are fascinating." She could hear him grinning. "Who do you reckon wrote them?"

"I wonder if we'll ever find out."

"Let's see. An Animagus. That's easy. I'd be an eagle. Or a hawk. Something that can fly fast and high."

"You said earlier you enjoy watching Quidditch. Do you happen to also play?"

"What? Why would you ask that?"

"Because you clearly enjoy flying! It only makes sense. What position do you prefer? Or is that getting too personal?"

He chuckled. "It depends on if you want to know. It wouldn't bother me."

Her eyes went wide. Of course she wanted to know, but it wasn't time yet. She wasn't quite ready to lose the wonderful sense of freedom that came with speaking her soul to someone who was, for all intents and purposes, a stranger. He could be Harry, for all she knew—well, except he was at another table. Hermione glanced toward her friend to find him still in conversation with the girl who wasn't Ginny. She couldn't wait to find out who he'd connected with so strongly.

"Let's see. I think I'd choose to be a horse. No, wait. A cat. Or maybe a beaver. Then I could swim or walk around on land." She squinted thoughtfully. "Or maybe a lion. No, a tiger. Although, those would be awfully strange in England."

Movement on his side caught her eye, and she realized his shoulders were shaking with silent laughter. "You weren't prepared for that question, were you?"

She blushed and tried to hide it before realizing he couldn't see. "Not really, no. It's just such an interesting question. How could you choose only one animal out of the thousands on the planet? Each one has something that makes it unique. And I don't—" She stopped, realizing he was laughing harder now. "Alright, fine. Laugh. Go ahead. I'll wait." She crossed her arms.

"No, no." He waved at her through his mirth. "I'm sorry. Do you want to keep going?"

A laugh escaped her lips without her permission. "No. Please, no. I'll... try to think of a good answer and tell you some other time."

"I can't believe we're only on question four." He picked up the sheet and was about to speak when the final chime for the evening sounded.

She'd been so absorbed in conversation with her stranger that the time had slipped away. "I can't believe it's over!"

His responding chuckle was low, gravely, and it rolled pleasantly over her like a wave. She imagined them sitting side by side instead of across a table, studying or doing homework together. He'd lean in and speak so only she could hear, his breath tickling her neck. Without thinking, she tucked a few curls behind her ear.

"I believe we're supposed to be fed now. It's about time, really. Answering all of these questions has woken my appetite. We can finish the last one while we eat." Hermione took a moment to glance around the room.

She was mildly surprised to find that most tables displayed the pale pink light above them. For the rest of the students, she knew that the empty tables would be replaced with larger ones to accommodate more people, and they could choose to sit wherever they wanted. A moment of doubt crept in, and she wondered if now, after spending well over an hour with her, her date would rather be with his friends. She had a suspicion that he was a Ravenclaw, but she hoped not. She'd never found any of her peers in Ravenclaw attractive, and while what mattered most was a person's character, she wondered how she would feel to find herself not attracted—or worse, possibly repulsed—by the young man sitting opposite her.

But she pushed the thought aside. She'd worry about that when she needed to, and there was no promise or guarantee of anything romantic, anyway. This might be the start of a lovely friendship, nothing more.

"If I may have your attention please!" Dominique called over the din. "Plates will be appearing on your tables very soon, so please clear them of anything that might be there. Those of you at the larger, communal tables, your food will be delivered in serving dishes in the center. Those of you eating at the smaller tables, your food will appear directly on your plates."

They cleared away the sheets with questions on them, and waited until their food arrived. It looked and smelled delicious. Hermione wondered what the rules were now that the main portion of the evening was finished. They were supposed to remain anonymous, but maybe it would be okay to try and figure out who he was. If he wasn't someone she found attractive, she could begin to prepare herself for that reality and decide how to move forward.

"Ready?" She tapped the paper she'd put back on the table beside her plate.

"Quite. Go on."

She cleared her throat. "What is your favorite hobby? How often do you get to do it?" Immediately, Hermione felt like it was a bad question. At least for the two of them, who seemed to carry their own weight from the war. "I like knitting. I'm terrible at it, but I did it a lot during fifth year."

"Why then? Have you done it much since?"

She shrugged, unable to fully answer his question lest she give herself away. "I had... reasons. And I realized those reasons weren't really doing what I thought they were. Oh, I know that's so vague, but it's the best I can do right now."

"It's alright. You can say as much or as little as you want." His voice was so soothing.

"I haven't done it since then, really. I should. It's soothing." She chewed thoughtfully, wondering if she would ever pick up a pair of knitting needles again. They made her think too much of Dobby, which brought to mind how much she had believed in helping house-elves, how much she still hoped to do in her life.

He cleared his throat. "Well, my favorite hobby is photography. Though I've only just started. I've found that it's an outlet for processing some of the things I went through in the war, some of the things I witnessed. I'm also not very good at it. But my mother bought me a camera, and I enjoy brewing the potion that brings the photos to life."

She nodded, noting that he enjoyed brewing potions—at least, that particular potion. But it was an advanced Seventh Year potion, one that was rarely covered because of its complexity, so she knew he must be somewhat skilled.

"So, um, what's your favorite subject?" Little questions like this, tossed in as they ate, should help her narrow down the options.

"Why?" His tone was heavy with suspicion.

"I'm only curious. We've gone through all the other questions, but we're supposed to eat dinner together. Unless you'd rather eat in silence." She had a feeling he wouldn't, based on their interactions so far.

But he was silent for a long while before finally answering quietly. "Arithmancy. Potions is a close second, though."

Her brain immediately jumped to try and recall all the boys in her Arithmancy class. Of course, he could be a Sixth Year, and she didn't know who from that year took the class. Still, in the combined Seventh and Eighth Years class, there were only fifteen students total, and eight of them were girls. That left only seven boys, and she started ticking them off in her mind: Ernie MacMillan, Terry Boot, Anthony Goldstein, plus a Ravenclaw Seventh Year, a Gryffindor Seventh Year, a Slytherin Seventh Year, and Draco Malfoy. But she felt that she could probably eliminate the last name, based on what she'd learned of her partner.

In a way, it was too bad—she definitely found _him_ attractive.

She also found Terry, Anthony, and the Seventh Year Gryffindor attractive, with the Seventh Year Slytherin close to being so. Learning so many wonderful things about any one of them could help tip her over on that front.

"Do you want to know who I am?" His question surprised her, even though it was exactly what she wanted.

"Um, to be honest? Yes. But I don't need to know, not right now. It can wait." She swallowed hard. "After dinner, I believe they drop the barriers."

"Then we eat dessert together. Assuming you don't walk away." There was something hard in his voice, resigned.

"Why would you think I'd walk away?"

"Isn't that why you want to know who I am? So you can decide what you're going to do before the reveal?" He made a tutting sound. "There's no need, though. I can tell you what's going to happen."

"Oh? Can you?" She was eager to prove him wrong, no matter what he said.

"Yes. You'll be shocked, you'll stutter out some apology or excuse, and then you'll run as fast as you can for the exit." Even though he sounded very smug about thinking he knew how she'd react, he also seemed sad.

Of the boys in her Arithmancy class, there was only one who could elicit such a reaction from her. Her cheeks flushed as she processed what he'd just said.

_Malfoy._

She was almost certain she was sitting across the table from Draco Malfoy, and he was convinced that she would walk away as soon as possible. Something stubborn inside of her made her want to stay, if for no other reason than to surprise him.

She wanted to see the look on _his_ face when he found out who _she_ was.

But then... it _was_ Malfoy, and she was _supposed_ to despise him.

He'd barely said four words to her all year outside of classes until now, and she really couldn't help noticing that she'd had a truly wonderful time talking with him for the majority of the evening. She wished she'd had longer to talk. She wished they could continue to talk. The only question was, really, did she want to continue whatever they'd started beyond this night? Did she see a future where they could interact?

She'd already acknowledged that she found him attractive. She knew he was smart because even though he barely spoke, when he did, she always found herself listening. Gone was the arrogant prat she'd grown up with, and in his place was a young man who'd gone through hell and come out a very different sort of person. Naturally, though, he wasn't privy to her thoughts and had no idea that her opinion of him had slowly evolved over the course of the year. She'd had more fun with him tonight than she could remember having with another person, and if there was even the slightest chance he'd want to see about being friends with her, then... she ought to take it.

Harry and Ron were wonderful, but they weren't the kind of friends she felt she could really talk to. Ron was too dismissive of her opinions, and Harry didn't like any kind of confrontation, even heated discussions about goings on in the magical world.

But Malfoy…

He was someone who thought deeply. And when she started to reflect on everything he'd said, he'd gone through an astonishing transformation. She'd laughed at his jokes, enjoyed his wit, marveled at his insight, and fully enjoyed his company.

"Sorted it, then?" His tone was wary, cautious.

"I think so. But—"

"Well done, Granger."


	2. Chapter 2

She gasped. "You knew it was me? How long?"

"The first five minutes." The smug tone was back. "Who else would bring a _book_ to this? Though I'm surprised it took you this long, honestly."

It took a moment for her brain to start going again after being shocked into a stupor. "But... Why? Why would you stay and talk to me if you knew who I was?"

He leaned forward, the blurry outline becoming slightly more in focus but not enough to distinguish his features. "Because I wanted you to see a different side of me. One you'd never give a chance otherwise."

She opened her mouth to protest, to inform him that she would absolutely have given him a chance, but everything in her screamed that it wasn't true. Yes, she'd thought of him during the evening, but it was always in a nebulous, idealistic way. Now that she was faced with the reality that it _was_ him, she was falling back into her old ways of reacting to him. Her heart was beating hard with anxious anticipation, ready to return his barbs at a second's notice.

She felt tense and on edge, and as soon as she realized, she relaxed her hands which had balled into fists. She took several calming breaths as she sat back in her seat.

"Are you leaving now?" His voice was hollow.

"No. I... I don't think I want to."

He scoffed. "It was your first response, though. You wanted to bolt, admit it."

Feeling somewhat recovered from her initial shock, Hermione was determined to stick to her principles, which included giving people second chances. She sniffed. "My first reaction was shock. How could anybody figure out it was me just because I mentioned a book."

At her attempt at humor, he let out a weak chuckle. "Yes, well, I suppose I'm just exceptionally observant." She'd noticed that he, too, had reverted somewhat in his behavior, back towards the guarded, silent person she'd known him to be all year, his tone laced with the drawl she associated with him.

"It's not like I told everyone about it. But, really, I must say, brewing the photography potion is incredible. That made me think of you, but I discussed it because of some other things you'd said."

"Oh? Like what?"

"Your reaction to learning I was Muggle-born, for one."

"Well, to be fair, I already knew that." He paused. "If anything, it was more confirmation."

She sighed. "Oh. Right." She wished she could see his face now, hear his true voice rather than the charmed one that made him sound just like all the other boys she'd talked to. "What do you say we remove this bloody barrier now? It's useless at this point."

"Can you do that?" He sounded wary. "Wouldn't it be breaking the rules?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I helped put them up. It's silly to keep this up now that we know each other. But I won't, if you'd rather."

He shrugged. "It's fine with me."

She raised her wand, ready to take down the anonymity features, when she remembered thinking more than once that she found him attractive. It hadn't mattered then because she didn't truly believe she was talking to Draco Malfoy. But now, after everything, how would she feel upon seeing him?

Shaking the thought away, she muttered the requisite spells.

When the barrier came down, he was sitting in an apparently relaxed position, but she quickly saw lines of tension in his face. His lips were flat, but not pursed, his eyes guarded, but not closed. He may have been just as ready for an attack as she had been.

Hermione forced herself to smile. She was determined to make this experience matter, even if he made it difficult. Though, his demeanor the whole evening suggested he wouldn't.

"Hello. Again." She gave him a small wave.

"Evening, Granger." He crossed his arms over his chest, but she could see his shoulders relax slightly.

Neither spoke for a moment, but as she looked at his face, their eyes locked in a silent battle—for what, she didn't know.

A blush crept up her cheeks. Her heart started racing. Her palms were sweaty.

"Now what?" He arched an eyebrow.

Hermione sat up straight and picked up her fork. "I suppose we carry on as before. Did you finish eating?"

They glanced at his plate, still half covered with food. "No. Right then." He resumed eating as well.

Just then, Dominique bustled over wearing a severe frown. "What are you—Oh. Hermione." She sniffed as though annoyed both at Hermione and the fact that she couldn't really do anything about Hermione removing the barrier.

"Hello, Dominique. We figured each other out, so I saw no point in continuing with the spells." She held up her fork, full of a bit of steak and kidney pie. "The menu is excellent though. I'll have to thank the organizers."

Dominique looked as though she wanted to give her a firm scolding, lips pursed and eyes narrowed. But she wouldn't, Hermione knew. The only person in the whole school who might have the guts to do so was sitting across from her.

"Well... Fine. But don't let anyone else's barriers down until it's time." Before Hermione could respond, she spun on her heel and walked away.

Draco tsked. "What about the rules, Granger?"

She arched an eyebrow. "Please. We both know you don't give a lick for rules."

He pressed a hand to his chest in mock dismay. "I have always been an excellent rule follower."

"Oh, right, yeah. Except for laws about common decency and, um, joining a group whose only mission was to eliminate people who they deemed unworthy."

His eyes bored into hers, but she refused to look away, meeting the steel in his gaze with mettle of her own.

Then he sighed wearily, breaking eye contact and taking a long drink of water. "I'm not going to try and argue that any of that was right. I know it wasn't." The contrition he'd exhibited during this short speech lingered for a moment before he met her eyes, his lips sliding into a smirk. "But other than that... singular indiscretion, I was a model student. Still am. Can you say the same?"

"Rules are there for a reason. Sometimes it's important to break them."

"But why do you get to decide when that is?" His counter wasn't angry, only sincere.

She shrugged. "Every one of us gets to decide when the break rules. We have to weigh the consequences, and hopefully, we're examining our motives. When I lied to Umbridge in Fifth Year, I believed it was the best course of action. I don't regret it. I don't regret sneaking into the Department of Mysteries, fighting Death Eaters, or helping Harry. Even though it turned out it was all for naught."

"Except putting my father in prison." He glowered slightly.

"He made a choice to break those rules, and there was a consequence for that choice." She peered at him. "I know you know that. Angry as I'm sure it made you."

"Threatened to kill Potter." He said it quietly, scratching at something on the table. Neither of them had touched their food since Dominique walked away.

Hermione sighed and pushed her plate away. "I don't want to argue about the past. I don't blame you for any of it."

"No?" He frowned, clearly not believing her. "Not even... you know. Sixth Year."

Another chime sounded, interrupting them. When everyone was quiet, Jacob stood up. "We're about to remove the barrier spells for those of you at the smaller tables, revealing the people you've been interacting with tonight. Dessert is a buffet format; you'll find a few tables along the walls with various treats." He pointed to both sides of the Hall, where Hermione saw all kinds of desserts piled high on four long tables. "Help yourself to as much as you want. You can remain sitting with your chosen companion for the evening, or join the larger tables. It's up to you. While you enjoy this part of the meal, we'll be setting up the dance floor and music."

Hermione felt her blood freeze.

What if Malfoy wanted to join his friends now?

Did she?

Before she could answer, however, there was a gust of wind, and she knew that the barriers had been taken away. There were some gasps, some laughter, some shouts of "I knew it was you!" But the pair she was most interested in was Harry. She sought him out and found, to her complete and utter shock, that the girl he'd been speaking with for even longer than she'd been with Malfoy was none other than Pansy Parkinson.

Pansy let out a cry, eyes wide. "Potter?"

Malfoy's gaze found the pair, and his eyes narrowed. Hermione wondered for the first time if he and Pansy were together. She had seemed very interested in him during Fourth and Fifth and even the beginning of Sixth, but Hermione had no idea what their Seventh Year was like.

"Jealous?" To her surprise, there was a slight shake to her voice. As though his answer _mattered_ to her. Surely he wouldn't have noticed. He couldn't possibly know her tells already.

His head whipped around to stare at her, a look of slight horror on his face. "Merlin, no. Pansy's like a sister."

She bit her lip. It was tempting to press for more, but she really didn't need it. She got her answer, both to the question of his affection for Pansy and to the state of affairs with her heart.

Apparently, it had decided to open itself to Draco Malfoy, of all people.

With a sigh, she looked back to Harry. He was standing now, a sheepish look on his face, rubbing the back of his neck. Pansy was facing him, arms crossed, and her entire body screaming annoyance. Yet they continued talking, somewhat frantically. Hermione sought out Ginny, who was watching the scene unfold from across the room. She'd chosen to sit at the larger table, and it had to sting to see Harry, her not-quite-boyfriend, so engrossed in conversation with someone else.

After another minute of hurried exchanges, Pansy tipped forward and kissed Harry. Everyone in the room gasped.

Draco snorted and turned back to his plate, shaking his head. "Hopefully something on that table has alcohol in it."

Without even thinking, without taking her eyes off her friend, she muttered, "That wouldn't be very responsible."

Harry looked genuinely torn. He didn't quite return Pansy's kiss, but his body was rigid, his fists clenched. Hermione knew that feeling. He wanted to let go, to embrace what was happening right in front of him, despite the absolute insanity of it, but he couldn't. Not when the whole upper classes were watching. Not when Ginny was watching.

Eventually, Pansy had enough and she stopped the kiss, glared at Harry, and stormed out of the room.

"This is utterly fascinating," Draco drawled, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Who knew? I mean, I've always had a suspicion. But to see it finally happen is..."

"A bit like a train wreck?" Hermione glanced at him, their eyes meeting.

"Perfect explanation. That's exactly it. I can't look away but it's... horrible. Kissing Potter." He made a face.

Hermione thought perhaps she ought to go to Ginny, or even Harry, but Ginny sprinted out of the Hall, and Harry hurried after her. The silence that had fallen over the room broke and little buzzing conversations sprung up all over.

Shaking her head, she turned her attention back to Draco. The rest of the room started to stand and make their way to the dessert tables. Neither of them, however, made a move.

Biting her lip, she looked at him hesitantly. "What do you—"

"Come on." He stood up and grabbed his plate, then hers, and without another word, stalked off toward the nearest table.

Smiling to herself, feeling slightly flustered, she followed. When she caught up with him in line, he returned her plate.

"I'm going to want an answer to my last question, Granger." He gave her a pointed look. "And I want to know what you think about that scene with Pansy and Potter."

She nodded and they filled their plates in silence. The dessert offerings were all single portions of favorite items: small cakes, biscuits, fudge, cups of various puddings, plus a selection of sweets that resembled the lunch trolley on the Hogwarts Express. With a wistful thought, Hermione wondered how much Ron would get. But she shoved the thought away and refused to look for him in the crowd. That ship had sailed, and she had no intention of trying to chase after it.

Draco was still putting things on his plate when Hermione returned to their table. When he walked back, she suspected his haul might rival Ron's. Then she shook her head. That was the last time she wanted to think about Malfoy and Ron in the same sentence like that. Not that there was anything to think about. There was no way Malfoy would be interested in her like that—as a girl.

Though, a small voice in her mind whispered that he'd been talking to her for two hours now with no sign of wanting to be elsewhere. What had he said? Oh, yes, that he'd wanted to show her a different side of him. Well, mission accomplished on that front.

He sat down and pulled himself closer to the table, and she was able to watch him eat his sweets with the excitement of a child getting their first ice cream cone and the refinement of someone with his upbringing. She nibbled on her biscuit and watched him unabashedly. After a moment, he noticed and glanced at her.

"What?"

"Nothing. It's only that Ron would be shoveling that piece of cake in his mouth, possibly with his hands, but you're using a knife and fork on it."

Draco gave a superior smirk. "Well, some of us were taught proper manners."

She suspected he had a lot more he could have said, but he refrained from outright insulting him. Hermione's heart swelled more at that than possibly anything else he'd said all evening. Not that he'd done it for her, of course. But... perhaps he had.

"Since we're on the subject." He was focused very intently on slicing his piece just so, as though he were in Potions class and had to make his cuts perfect.

"What subject?"

"Weasel. Er, Weasley." He paused and stabbed a piece, bringing it halfway to his mouth. "What's going on with you two?"

Hermione watched as he slid the neat square of cake into his mouth, his lips closing around the fork, pressing into the metal tines as he withdrew it. She swallowed hard and felt a flush creep onto her cheeks. She took a few sips of water before responding.

"Nothing. We tried to be together a bit this past summer, but after the war, after everything... it didn't progress. I think a quick snog during the heat of battle was the culmination of years of fancying him." She shrugged. "I'm happy this way, and so is he. I feel nothing for him now beyond friendship and I can't imagine that changing. Ever."

He nodded slowly, his focus again on his plate. "I see. And now the question of my actions in Sixth."

"Oh, that's—we don't need to talk about that. I mean—"

"We were talking about choices and understanding. You said you didn't blame me for Sixth."

She bit her lip, frowning slightly, and when she spoke, it was quiet. "I... was at your trial, Malfoy." Then she looked up into his shocked face, the tops of his cheekbones tinged with pink. "I don't blame you for any of it. Yes, you could have made different choices, but there would have been other consequences. I—I understand that you did the best you could."

His gaze was hard, piercing. He'd stopped eating his cake while she spoke, and now he looked as though he wanted to argue. He opened his mouth and frowned, then stopped. "If you're sure."

"I am." She exhaled in relief. "We don't need to dredge it all up. This may shock you, Malfoy, but I never hated you."

"My left cheek would suggest otherwise." He rubbed his face as though he'd just been slapped.

Hermione blushed. "Yes, well. I despised you. But that's very different from hate."

"I happen to agree with you." He nodded thoughtfully. "I, in turn, never hated you."

She raised an eyebrow sardonically. "I find that hard to believe."

"I... Despised you." He chuckled when he met her gaze. "Right, fine. I didn't like a lot of things about you. But it wasn't really hate. It was conditioning and jealousy and morbid curiosity." He held up his hands. "Maybe a little bit of horrified fascination. But not hate."

"Alright. There's another thing we have in common! We didn't hate each other as children." She popped the last bit of her biscuit in her mouth.

"Merely despised each other." He glanced down at his plate, warily eyeing what was left. "I think I might be finished."

Hermione nodded. "I am, too. It was delicious though."

The lights in the Great Hall dipped then, with spotlights turning toward the dance floor that had been set up. Music started playing, and a group of girls hurried to the dance floor, giggling and looking around self-consciously. It wasn't long before others joined them, and within minutes, most of the students were dancing.

Hermione eyed the merriment with some mixture of disdain and wistfulness. Part of her wanted to dance—she had enjoyed it at the Yule Ball and during parties in the Gryffindor common room. But she was also reluctant to end her time with Malfoy, feeling that whatever this was, whatever was going on between them, wasn't likely to extend beyond one night.

She could still see them sitting side by side to study, sharing notes, discussing something their teacher had said, debating some of the finer points of Magical theory. Maybe his elbow would brush her arm. Maybe her knee would knock into his thigh. Maybe their fingers would brush as they reached for the same book...

"Do you want to dance?"

They were still in their seats, both turned towards the action.

Hermione smiled as she watched the crowd moving excitedly to the beat. "Oh, I'm not sure, I haven't decided yet. It looks fun, though." She couldn't say the rest, that she wanted to stay and continue talking to him.

"I see."

She groaned, wanting to bang her head on a wall. Of course, he was probably finished with their evening. "Do you?"

He turned his head, his gaze catching hers. "Only if you do."

His words from before registered in a very different way, and she realized he might have been asking his question in a particular and specific sense, rather than a generic one. Her eyes went wide and she blushed furiously. "Oh, did you mean—"

He waved her off and shook her head. "It's fine."

"No, I—"

"It's probably too much." He frowned at the floor, then glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. "Hogwarts isn't ready for you and me to dance."

If there was one thing he could have said to change her mind, that was it. Hermione jutted out her chin and stood, fully drawing his gaze. She held her hand out to him, ignoring the way it trembled with adrenaline and nerves. But she didn't flinch or break eye contact, and after a moment, during which he studied her warily and she thought he might turn her down, he let out a heavy sigh and stood.

"Are you sure?"

"Let's go before we both come to our senses."

He peered at her a heartbeat longer, then gently folded his larger hand around hers. It was the most intense moment of personal contact she'd ever experienced. Fire shot through her nerves where his skin touched hers, and she almost gasped, stopping herself just in time. It felt like butterflies were colliding in her stomach, a delightfully tense explosion that made her heart race. He held her hand lightly as he led her toward the dance floor, and her first thought was that he didn't want to touch her, that despite everything he'd said, he still considered her beneath him.

But she needn't have worried. When they reached the dance floor, which seemed to happen almost instantaneously, he slowed beside her, releasing her hand to put his fingers on the small of her back, gently guiding her forward and letting her know he was still there.

She expected the whispers that followed them, but she refused to pay them any attention.

The song was a fast one, and most of the people were just moving without regard to partners or personal space. She tried to stay near him but then she was surrounded by classmates, all of them chattering nonstop about their evenings and asking questions about Malfoy. The music was pounding, and once she got away from the small group, she sought Malfoy out in the crowd. He was near the middle, with a Sixth Year Slytherin pressing into him. His expression was one of exasperation, and his eyes darted around the area. When they landed on her, he started making his way towards her. Despite a few people getting in their way, including yet another Sixth Year Slytherin literally throwing herself in Malfoy's path and Dean and Seamus trying to pull Hermione into a dance with both of them, she finally connected with Malfoy.

She felt a bit awkward at first, and Dean whispered furtively to Seamus before they were swallowed up in the crowd. Thirty seconds later, however, the song changed, this time to one with an even faster best.

Students around her cheered, but Hermione couldn't join them. She looked at Malfoy, who was watching her closely. With a sheepish smile, she shrugged. "On second thought, I don't think I want to dance."

Hermione's heart thumped as she followed his lead, heading back to their table. To her dismay, however, she found it had been cleared of everything. All of the tables had.

Thinking she wanted one more biscuit, she retrieved her bag and headed for the nearest dessert table. When she reached it, she looked everything over, finding that she didn't want more sweets after all. Just as she was going to turn away, Malfoy appeared at her side and quickly grabbed a handful of different sweets.

"What?" He grinned—actually grinned—when he saw her gaping at him. "They're for later."

"How can you possibly eat all of those?" _And still look like that,_ she wanted to add.

"Quidditch. Really works up the appetite." Hands full, he motioned for her to follow him.

For some reason, she did. "But when's the last time you played Quidditch?" The Eighth Year students weren't allowed to join the house teams as it was deemed unfair.

"Oh, let's just say... I have my ways. Come on." He hurried her from the hall and out the front door, much to her bewilderment.

"Where are we going? And what do you mean you have your ways? Are you playing? Not that there's anything wrong with it, of course, but I don't know anything about it. Harry's never said a word! But maybe you don't invite him. Though if it's only Eighth Years, I'd think you'd need him to be able to fill out two teams."

There was a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "I never _said_ anything about Potter."

"But why can't you tell me?" They were on the grounds now, and she was so distracted that she wasn't paying attention to where they were headed.

"Granger. I'm sorry I didn't _say_ anything sooner, but... You don't play Quidditch." He raised his eyebrows, his expression urging her to catch on.

"You can't say anything specific about it, can you?"

A triumphant smirk registered on his face.

"My guess, then, is that you and other Eighth Year students sneak out regularly to play Quidditch at night." She paused in thought for a moment. "Friday nights, I believe. And I'm guessing Harry is one of them. And Ron. No wonder they're useless on Saturdays."

He merely shrugged, but his eyes sparkled as he looked back at her.

"Where are we going?" She stopped in her tracks and glanced around. The only lights were those coming from the castle, but she thought they were on their way to the Pitch. Though, why he would be leading her there, she couldn't begin to guess.

"My favorite place to think." He came back to where she stood and held up the handful of sweets.

She wanted to ask him why—why he wanted to keep being around her, why he wanted to take her to his favorite place to think, why, after everything, after not speaking to her hardly at all this year, he suddenly didn't seem to want to stop. But if she asked _him_ why, then she'd risk that question pointing back to her. Why was she following him? Why did _she_ want to continue talking with him? Why hadn't she put an end to their evening? Why could she still feel where his hand had gripped hers? The very thought of that contact sent a wave of fresh nerves through her.

"Lead the way, then."

He nodded and slowed his pace so they could walk side by side. After a moment, she spoke. "Undercover Quidditch, huh? Is that why it seems like there's been a truce of sorts between you, Harry, and Ron all year? I mean, not that you've been out picking fights, but you barely even insult them anymore. And... come to think of it, it's more banter than anything when you do."

"You're not the only one with whom I've had amends to make."

That was all he said, so she assumed she'd been correct in her conclusions. She wasn't about to complain. If Harry and Ron had already somewhat forgiven Malfoy—it wasn't so blatant that she'd picked up on it before—then a friendship between Malfoy and herself shouldn't raise serious objections. If they tried, she'd simply mention the Quidditch games. No, she ought to catch them out one night, so she didn't implicate Malfoy. She'd do it the next Friday night.

They reached the Pitch then, and Hermione followed him onto the grounds. The moon was full, shining just enough light for them to see where they were going. Malfoy led her in an unwavering path toward the Slytherin stands, and they moved without speaking, as though afraid they'd get caught. They kept to the shadows until they reached the stairs that led up, and finally stopped at about the halfway point. Malfoy started down a row, planting himself firmly in the very middle.

When she joined him, sitting with a respectable distance between them, she looked out over the Pitch.

"It's lovely at night."

"Yeah. It's so quiet out here. It's my favorite spot to come to when I need to get away. It's situated out of sight of the castle, which is nice, and on nights like this, with the moon, it provides a great view of the whole field and both sets of goals." He gazed wistfully at the nearest grouping of golden hoops.

"You must miss playing."

He set the collection of sweets between them and motioned for her to take anything she wanted. She chose the smallest item and took a tiny bite out of it. She wasn't terribly hungry anymore but didn't want to turn down his offer. When he looked to her again, his expression was mischievous. "Oh, I do miss it. You know. Officially."

"Still, pick up games in the middle of the night can't compete with playing for your house, with the cheering crowds, the commentary, the thrill of victory meaning something beyond bragging rights..." She had never been interested in playing the game or learning much about it beyond what she needed to know as a spectator, but many of her friends adored the game, some even thought about it obsessively.

"Oh, the bragging rights alone make it more than worth it—or they would, you know, hypothetically." He smirked toward the field, his eyes tracing a path in the sky only he could see.

"Except that you can't brag to anyone but the people you play with. I assume it's forbidden to discuss it with anyone outside the group." She wondered who all was involved. There were plenty of Eighth Year students available, but obviously not all of them had played for their houses. Only a handful of them had. She would love to see them play and was very much looking forward to next Friday evening.

"That's enough. Hypothetically. Especially if..." Malfoy leaned back on the bench behind him, stretching his legs out to rest on the one below. He rested his elbows on the higher bench and crossed his ankles. "One's record against the Boy Who Lived stands firmly in the W column." The mirth in his eyes when he looked at her then was exultant. "Hypothetically, of course."

"Of course." Hermione chuckled. "And I suppose that's enough for you, then?"

"It is. Or, it would be."

"Right." She smiled back at him. " _If_ such a thing were happening."

"Exactly." He winked. "Nothing gets past you, huh, Granger?"

Silence descended between them again, and Hermione continued to nibble. Malfoy showed no signs of slowing down in his bid against the stack of sweets, but she suspected he was quite fit under his robes. The Quidditch matches must really be intense for him to have such an appetite. They'd played the night before, in all probability. It was no longer any wonder that Harry and Ron ate so much on Saturdays, though they were rarely up to eat breakfast with her.

When the silence stretched, she began to feel self-conscious and anxious. Why were they here? What was going to happen next? The party would surely be ending soon, and they'd need to be inside the castle before too long.

"Malfoy?" But of course she didn't know how to ask. She didn't want to put labels on what had passed between them or push him into definitions, because to do so would risk it falling apart.

Were they friends now? Would he speak to her outside of classes? Would they walk together in the halls, study together in the library? Would he want to see her beyond things that were strictly school related? Would they go to Hogsmeade together—in a group or just the two of them? Would he try to get to know her more? Did he like what he'd learned already?

And in her heart of hearts, she had more questions.

Would he ever want _more_? Would he hold her hand? Try to kiss her? Press close into her personal space, mingling their breaths together in the best possible way?

"Yes?" His voice made her jump, startling her out of her thoughts. He chuckled lightly, amusement shining in his eyes.

"What?"

"You said my name." Malfoy took the last bite of his sweet and Conjured a pillow. Setting it behind his head, he shoved his hands in his pockets and closed his eyes.

Hermione was very confused about what to do. "Um, why are we out here?"

He opened one eye and peered at her. "I thought you wanted to get away from the loud noise."

"Well, yes. But..." She wasn't sure how to get the answers she sought other than outright asking him. When he only shut his eyes again, she huffed and decided if he got offended, it wasn't like they'd be putting a lifelong friendship at risk. "Why did you want to leave with me? Why did you bring me along out here?"

He didn't respond right away, instead remaining perfectly still—so still she might have thought he'd fallen asleep if not for the slight furrow to his brow. "I'm not entirely sure, to be honest."

While she could identify with his confusion, it was still frustrating. "Is it because you wanted to keep talking to me?"

His eyes opened wide, likely at her frankness. Even though he'd been honest, he probably hadn't expected her to keep pressing. She noticed a pink tinge at the top of his cheekbones, and he looked away, his gaze straying over the dark Pitch. "What if it was?"

She pursed her lips. "Then you ought to say so. I mean, really, Malfoy. What is this? We've not spoken all year, we're not friends—" He looked at her sharply. "Fine, we _weren't_ friends before tonight—but now… are we? Is that what you want?"

He shrugged and sat up, Vanishing the pillow with a wave of his hand and leaning forward to rest his elbows on his thighs. "I'm not... averse to the idea."

"Well, you ought to say what you want." Hermione rolled her eyes. "I can't read your thoughts. I don't know what happens next, and I like to know things. I like to plan. I like to have an idea of what to expect. We obviously connected in some way in there, or you wouldn't have wanted to keep talking to me. I'd say the connection came through the event, but you knew it was me from the start and wanted to prove something anyway. It wasn't like the rules of the game were followed, where you wanted to see what could happen." Her cheeks were flaming but she was in too deep to stop now. And anyway, he wasn't looking at her, so she didn't have to try and interpret the expression, or lack thereof, on his face. "But I suppose I could resolve the quest you told me about earlier. You wanted me to see a different side of you. And… I have. We can both move forward after tonight with a better understanding of each other and... and that's completely fine."

"But you pressed the button."

It was so soft she wasn't sure she'd heard correctly. "Excuse me?"

"I pressed that button as soon as I knew it was you." He glanced over his shoulder at her. "But I never expected you to, as well."

She opened her mouth to speak but found she had no idea what to say. "I—"

"When I got the chance to really let you see part of me, who I am, beyond the kid you thought you knew from our younger years..." He shrugged and turned away again. "I found that I didn't want to stop."

Hermione let out a long, measured breath. "Right. So you want to be friends?"

"Do you?"

All the flashes she'd had all night of the two of them doing things together, both before she knew his identity and after... she could still see those things, even more so now that she knew who he was. And, of course, there were the thoughts that made her heart flutter, images of his hand brushing hers. It was enough to let her know that, if she was honest with herself, she wanted more than friendship. At least, she was certainly attracted to him. She wanted to be open to the idea because he had been so wonderful to talk to. It wasn't hard to imagine many more such conversations with him.

But, when all was said and done, being friends was a very good first step.

"Yes. I'd like that." She was smiling when his head spun around, obviously surprised at her answer. "Oh, don't look like that. Do you think I'd have followed you out here if I was set against the idea? Or danced with you in front of the whole upper years?" Her cheeks flushed at the memory, and his gaze narrowed slightly. He obviously noticed this.

"Friends." He said the word as though he'd never really uttered it before, as though he were trying it out to see how it fit. "I could do that."

"Right. We'd... greet each other in the hallway."

He blinked, waiting for her to continue, then let out a snort. "Wow. That's brave. Careful there, Granger. You might really upset someone."

Hermione laughed. "Well, we don't have many occasions to interact, do we?"

"We're in most of the same classes." He shrugged. "But I'm not going to try and get you to do anything you don't want to do. I'm content with greeting each other in the hallways."

"Oh, but that's silly, don't you think? After spending all this time together, that seems like a step backward." She paused thoughtfully. "But what were you thinking, then?"

Malfoy's brow creased. He seemed on the verge of speaking a few times before he finally let out a long sigh. "I don't know. Since when do people set up terms for friendship at the beginning?"

"Good point. Only, we aren't like most people starting a friendship."

"That's true," he said quietly. "Whatever you want, Granger."

"I definitely want to be friends." She spoke with conviction, turning to smile at him. But she wasn't prepared for the way he was looking at her—intense, conflicted, teetering—and judging from his reaction, he hadn't expected her to catch him staring.

She felt a flush creep onto her cheeks and bit her lip. Malfoy closed his eyes and turned away. Merlin's beard, what was happening?

Whatever this was, whatever was happening between them, she didn't want it to end. It was unlikely they'd ever speak like this again, and she didn't want to stop, not when she'd had such a lovely time and connected with someone in a way she'd never experienced before. But how could she say that without saying it?

Malfoy pushed himself to a seated position and started collecting the leftover sweets.

"Are we finished?" The words tripped out before she'd even thought them.

He froze just as he was starting to wrap the sweets in a napkin. His eyes slowly lifted to hers, something deep and unfathomable in them. They stared at each other for what felt like an age, her heart racing for some unknown reason.

He slowly released the package and grabbed another biscuit. "Nope."

They talked all night. Between school and their shared history, plans for the future and stories from their past, there was a never-ending supply of topics.

When the sun peeked over the horizon, Hermione gaped, turning wide eyes on Malfoy, and they both laughed with astonishment.

"I can't believe it's morning!" A yawn escaped her, and she clamped a hand over her mouth to muffle the sound.

"It's a good thing I grabbed all those sweets, yeah?" He grinned, crumpling up the now empty napkin and stuffing it into his pocket.

"I suppose we'd better get inside soon."

Even now, with sleep clawing at her and her stomach rumbling for something more than sugar, she didn't want to leave. But they had to. It was surely time.

Malfoy yawned. "I think my arse is asleep."

Hermione snorted a laugh. "Lovely. We're going to be hating ourselves later today."

"I doubt that." He smirked, but his lips were soft. It wasn't an unpleasant expression at all. Then he clapped his hands on his legs and pushed himself up. "Well, we could go down to breakfast."

She frowned slightly. "What do you mean?"

"Well, we'd walk, with our legs, down the stands, across the grounds, into the castle, then into the Great Hall." He shook his head and tutted. "Seems you're only the Brightest Witch after a good night's sleep."

She laughed lightly. "And then what would we do?"

He shrugged, not looking at her, and shoved his hands in his pockets before he started walking down the bleachers. Hermione huffed and exited the row, then took the stairs. They met at the bottom, where he was waiting for her at the foot of the steps. She couldn't fully descend because he was blocking her way, facing her with a lazy smile. "We'd eat."

Hermione rolled her eyes and she made to step past him, but he moved to block her way. "Malfoy, what are you doing?"

"I'm not sure." It came out as almost a whisper. "But... I think... I wonder..." He stopped and for a moment, she waited for what he would say next, but then she felt something brush her hand.

She jumped, startled, jerking her hand away, only to see that Malfoy had been the one to touch her. Her eyes went wide and she looked up at him, but he was focused on where his hand had been moments before. Hermione's gaze slowly drifted back down as she relaxed, letting her arms fall to her sides once more.

Her heart was thundering in her chest, and she dared not speak when he held out his index finger and slowly, hesitantly, reached out to touch the back of her hand. When she didn't flinch, he added another finger. Then he stepped closer, crossing into her space, still not meeting her eyes.

He trailed his fingers from her wrist down to the tips of her fingers, then slid his hand around hers. It was vastly different from when he'd taken her hand to lead her to the dance floor. This was intimate, an exploration, a tentative first step, and she couldn't believe he'd done it. She'd been thinking about him all night in increasingly familiar ways, imagining them in various scenarios where they were obviously more than friends. But she never imagined that _he_ might be thinking along similar lines. How was that even remotely possible?

Yet the truth was right there, her hand in his. She realized she was barely breathing, anxiously waiting for what would happen next. After a minute or two, during which she experienced all sorts of butterflies in her stomach and those sensations that go with a new attraction, he adjusted his hand to get a better grip.

"Granger."

Somehow she managed to look him in the eye, though when she did, her breath caught at the intense expression on his face. And if she'd thought there'd been butterflies before, it was nothing compared to how it felt to face him, to see his wide open eyes, windows into his soul, wary but hopeful.

That was it—hope lying just beneath everything.

"Draco." She whispered his name but he reacted as though she'd shouted it. He gripped her hand tighter, swaying slightly forward, then tipping back to where he'd been.

"Hermione." Her name sounded like music coming from his lips, like a meditation or a wish. He kept his gaze firmly locked on hers.

She didn't know what she wanted to happen next, but the tension of waiting was almost unbearable.

"It's only... there's something I've been wanting to try."

"Hm. What's that?"

"May I?"

She swallowed hard, not knowing exactly what he was asking, then nodded.

Lifting his free hand, he gently touched her face with his fingertips, lightly brushing her cheek as he drew his fingers toward her mouth. There he paused, ever so slightly running his thumb across her lips. She was watching him, scarcely daring to breathe, as his eyes followed the course of his ministrations. He seemed hesitant to do more, to break through the final barrier, to take the final leap from which there was no return.

She desperately wanted him to kiss her, but it was obvious that, though he might also want to, he was waiting for her. Whether he wanted her permission or for her to act, she didn't know, but there was no longer any doubt in her mind that _she_ wanted to kiss _him._


	3. Chapter 3

"Draco."

"Hm?"

Hermione raised her other hand and slipped it around his neck. Since she was on the step above him, she was only a few inches shorter now. His eyes fluttered shut at her action, and then he wasted no time in dipping his head and capturing her lips in a surprisingly gentle kiss. His hand squeezed tighter around hers as his lips moved, and she very quickly felt weak at the knees.

She kissed him back of course, thinking as she did so that in her very limited experience, this was the best first kiss of her life. He didn't try to rush things, content to drive her wild with slow, languid kisses. He wasn't overpowering or too timid. It was as though he knew how to perfectly kiss her, as though she'd drawn up a description and he'd met and exceeded each bullet point.

Some time later—the passage of time was meaningless—they heard a distant door open and then slam shut, and it startled them out of the kiss. They stared at each other, and Hermione blushed, even as she boldly met his gaze. One of her hands was twisted in his shirt, the other gripping the back of his neck—both placements suggesting she didn't want him to move. For his part, one hand was splayed on her lower back, and the other gripped her hip.

His eyes were blazing, unabashed desire flashing in the pale silver. It took her breath away. But he didn't move to kiss her again, probably recovering from shock just like her—shock that not only had they just snogged in the Quidditch stands after staying up all night talking, but also that it had been so, _so_ good.

At least, she _hoped_ he thought it was good.

They stood there, neither moving beyond the heavy rise and fall of their breathing, until a particularly chilly wind sliced between them. Even though they'd employed every spell they knew to stay warm outside all night, it was still February in northern Scotland.

"Um…" She quickly released his shirt.

He blinked and the pressure at her hip lessened. "Granger."

"You called me Hermione just a minute ago." She slowly extracted her hand from his neck, already missing the warmth and the feel of his skin.

"Right." His hand left her back and she bit back a whine. "Listen, I'm—"

"Not sorry. Don't say that." It was the bravest thing she could say right then.

His eyes widened slightly, then he shook his head, resting his other hand on her other hip and pulling her towards him. "No. I'm not sorry." He kissed her again, and this time Hermione brought both arms up to wrap around him, pressing into him as much as she possibly could.

He slid his tongue along her lips and made her gasp, then slipped between her parted lips to deepen the kiss. She hugged him closer, a fire burning inside, wanting more—more contact, more pressure, more of _him_ against _her._

His hands left her hips, sliding up her back as he kissed her, still slow and calm but with a growing edge of tension. She wanted him to break loose, to see just what would happen if he let go, even if only a little.

But he didn't.

Just when she thought he must break, he stopped the kiss, his breathing heavy as he looked into her eyes. "Never sorry."

She exhaled sharply, smiling as they simultaneously disentangled from each other. Malfoy—Draco—shoved his hands into his pockets, and Hermione wrapped her arms around her middle, sorely missing the warmth of his body.

"So, um, Mal _—Draco_. What... What happens now?" She had to be the one to mention it; she couldn't risk nothing being said on the matter.

"Now?" He quirked an eyebrow and stepped closer again. "I find I'm rather peckish. What do you say to breakfast? And then I fancy a kip. I'll probably go flying later, visit the library this evening, and I think you should go with me to Hogsmeade Saturday."

All through this little speech, she'd pursed her lips in amusement, planning out her rebuttal. But at the last line, she froze in surprise, all thoughts vanishing like smoke. "Hogsmeade?"

"Yes. Unless you already have plans...?" He trailed off, looking, for one instant, unsure of himself.

"Well... I don't have other plans. And I do fancy breakfast, but that's not what I meant, and you know it." She fixed him with an impatient gaze. "What happens with us? I don't typically let just anybody kiss me."

A smirk spread slowly across his face and he leaned in again, kissing her with his hands still in his pockets. It was short and sweet, the smirk even wider when he stepped back. "Like that, you mean?"

She shoved him lightly in the chest. "So then am I to infer that you wish to do that again?"

"It's fair to assume that, yes."

"Well, as I said, I don't want random people walking up to me and kissing me anytime they please."

"I have to agree with you. I wouldn't like that one bit myself. No random blokes should be kissing you." He gazed at her through his long fringe. "I'm the only one who should do that."

She nodded slowly, trying to calm her racing heart and fully process his words, all while keeping a cool head and not freaking out. "You want to be the only one."

He looked away, over the stands behind them to the blue sky beyond. "I think... I would like to try for more than just being friends. Besides, I'd be lousy at that, really. Since I'd only be thinking about kissing you most of the time."

"I see." Could this really be happening? How had they gone from nothing to _this_ in the span of only twelve hours? Though, if she really thought about it, they'd been through the equivalent of at least four dates in their time together, so it did seem perfectly reasonable that he might have developed real feelings for her in that time. Not only did he want to kiss her, he wanted to be more than friends. She couldn't have fought the smile if she'd tried. "More than friends. That will be... interesting."

"I know. I've thought about that." He took a step back and held out his hand. "I think it was in... hour two that I realized there was more there than just two people who happen to like answering questions, as per the instructions. I knew it was you, and I knew I wanted to see if anything more was possible."

"Hm, that's interesting. You might find it interesting that I thought about you a few times as well, though, not because I knew you were… well, you. Or, that I was talking to you. But some of the things you said reminded me of... well, you get it." She felt silly, rambling as she was, and she blushed.

"You thought about me?"

"I said I did. I wondered who you could be. It was hard to gauge how I'd feel upon seeing you, but when I figured you out..." She smiled shyly. "I wasn't displeased that it was you. But tell me, when did you think about all of this? Surely not before today."

"No, not before today." He grimaced slightly. "At least, not in terms of anything real."

Her eyes went wide. "What? What are you saying?"

"Whoa, careful. I haven't fancied you for years or months or weeks or even days, if that's what you're thinking." He looked away. "But I've thought you were pretty for a long time." When he turned back to meet her eyes, his expression was firm. "That's all."

"Oh! I was a little unsettled there for a second." She sighed somewhat dramatically. "I've had a similar... experience, shall we say, this year. Maybe before, but you were such a horrid little arse that the best I could do was acknowledge that you conformed to some objective standards of desirability. That was all it ever amounted to."

A wide grin spread across his face. "Then what you're saying is that you found me... desirable?"

She pursed her lips at his smugness. _"Now_ I do. As in, starting last night. Before I only thought you were objectively attractive. It didn't mean I had any interest in you."

"And now you do." He was grinning again, and it was somewhat infuriating, yet also adorable. She'd never really seen him look genuinely pleased about anything.

"Yes. Now I do. I'd also like to try being more than friends." She smiled back at him. "Hogsmeade this weekend should do nicely."

"It's a date."

A shiver of nervous anticipation ran down her spine. _A date_. Honestly, a date was the last thing she'd expected to come of this night. Or, the night before, since it was now morning. "A date, then."

"Excellent." He clapped his hands, pressing his palms together. "Now, what do you say to breakfast?"

"I'd say that sounds incredible."

Draco slid his hands into his pockets and stepped back, allowing her to finish descending the steps. Hermione did, her nerves fluttering at the thought of what came next.

Once they were out of the stadium, headed across the grounds towards the castle, Draco removed one of his hands from his trousers and let it hang promisingly between them. She expected him to take her hand, but he didn't right away. Instead, they walked in silence for a few minutes, before he seemed to make a decision. With a glance in her direction, watching her the entire time, Draco found her hand and grasped it. She smiled at him, blushing lightly, and he relaxed as he threaded their fingers together.

The same delightful feeling she'd experienced the previous times they'd touched returned in full force.

"This doesn't feel the least bit strange. I've been wondering for the past hour or so." He gave her hand a squeeze.

"Oh, have you? Well, I never saw this coming." She glanced towards the castle, looking ever closer with a hint of trepidation. "I've not spent much time thinking about any of this, but at the moment, my thoughts are full of how this works once we're inside. What are your thoughts? Is it a bad idea for me to hold your hand? Should we sit together to eat? Should that wait until after Hogsmeade? What—"

"Hey. Hermione." He stopped and tugged her so she'd stop, too. "You're thinking about this way too much."

"Maybe you're not thinking about it enough."

He sighed and dragged his free hand through his hair, his gaze drifting up to the castle. "What do you want to happen?"

"I suppose we should enter separately." Her heart sank at the thought; that approach didn't feel right. What she _wanted_ was to walk into the Great Hall, her hand in his, sit down at the Gryffindor table, and eat breakfast. No fanfare. No whispers. No blowback whatsoever. But she didn't think they should test their new relationship so early, not in such a public, official way. It was probably best that they carry on as though nothing were different, at least until they were absolutely sure this was something they wanted to pursue. One look at him, though, and she knew nothing would change for her. And being who she was, she'd rather face the metaphorical lions sooner than later.

He gave a clipped nod and let go of her hand, slipping his back into his pocket. "We'll see each other in classes."

"And there's Hogsmeade to look forward to." She forced a smile, but it didn't come from her heart. She didn't like the idea of hiding or pretending. "Is this the right thing, Draco?"

He shrugged. "I don't know, really. I think we're both in for some rough conversations, at the very least, before things get smooth."

"It makes sense to be sure about what we want first, then, doesn't it?" She was asking the questions she thought would confirm in her mind that keeping their relationship—was it even okay to call it that yet?—a secret was the right choice. She didn't feel them, though.

"People will be shocked no matter when they find out. Make no mistake about that. As for waiting until we're sure... " He toed at something on the ground with the tip of his shoe. "It's fine with me, if you think that's best."

It made sense. Maybe this whole night was some grand fluke, and they'd exhausted everything they had to say to each other. An annoying, niggling little voice reminded her quite insistently that, even if such a thing were possible, she still enjoyed kissing him an awful lot, probably enough to make up for some mediocre conversations every now and then.

With a half-hearted nod, she started toward the castle. "Alright. We'll... just keep quiet for now, and we'll see how Saturday goes."

"Whatever you want, Granger."

They reached the castle and stopped in the entrance hall. With a last look at each other, Hermione took a deep breath and watched him enter the Great Hall. Everything looked different this side of kissing Draco Malfoy. She felt a little lighter, a little happier, a little more excited about the day ahead. Before she took even a single step, however, she got quite a shock.

"Hermione!" Ginny had grabbed her arm and pulled her away from the doors to the Great Hall. "Where have you been all night?" She put her hands on her hips just like her mother, her expression stern as she waited. "I've been waiting for you to come to breakfast all morning!"

"What do you mean?" For some reason, it had never occurred to her that she might be missed. If anything, she'd expected her classmates to assume she'd gone straight to bed after the speed dating event.

"I have it on good authority that you left the Great Hall with none other than Draco Malfoy last night. Is that true?" She didn't wait for an answer. "And now you've just come back into the castle, _with him_ , I might add. Where were you? Are you okay? Did he do something? Where did you go with him?"

Hermione floundered, not sure what to say. Then she remembered what had happened with Harry, and she noticed that Ginny's eyes, while bright and suspicious, were also red. Ginny noticed her scrutiny and looked away.

"Ginny, I'm fine. Are _you_ alright?"

"No. That cow, Parkinson, kissed Harry last night. But surely you saw that." She scowled at the ground. "Everybody did."

"Yes, but what happened after that?"

Ginny shrugged noncommittally. "Nothing much. He said it meant nothing, but I don't believe him. But enough of this, you're changing the subject. Everyone saw you leave with Malfoy, and nobody saw you come into the dorm last night."

Hermione bit her lip; she had to think fast. "What makes you think anything happened?"

Ginny's eyes narrowed. "Because it wasn't that late when you left and there were plenty of people still in the common room. None of them saw you go up to your room." Now her eyes became pleading. "Just tell me. Everyone is whispering about it, saying you two... Well, what do you think they'd say? Where have you been?"

She couldn't think of a single way out of this that was believable. All she could do was try to buy some time for a plan to form. "You said everybody saw us leave?"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Well, not everybody. But enough people. And then after that, nobody saw either of you again. So you don't deny leaving with him? Why would you do that?"

"He was the one I ended up pressing the button for." Hermione yawned. "And he did the same."

"What? Malfoy!?"

Hermione clamped a hand over Ginny's mouth. "Yes. Now, would you please keep it quiet?"

Ginny nodded, so Hermione released her. "But Hermione! Malfoy?"

"I didn't know it was him, obviously. Then when we found out..." She bit her lip. "I had really enjoyed my time with him. We tried dancing with everyone else, but neither of us really wanted to keep going. So... We left."

Ginny crossed her arms. "And then what?"

"Then we continued talking, Ginny."

"Talking. What, all night?" It was obvious from her tone that she didn't believe a word Hermione was saying. "You're still in your bloody dress!"

Hermione's stomach sank. "Bloody hell, you're right. Um, here, I'll just Transfigure it into something else for now." After quickly altering her attire, she sighed. "And yes, Ginny. All night."

"That's a load of dragon shit, and you know it." She stared at her hard. "Talk all night, my arse. Did you sleep with him?"

"Ginny! No, of course not! I'm telling you the truth. We talked all night. I don't care if you believe me or not. That's all that happened." She didn't think Ginny needed to know about the kissing. It was practically nothing anyway, when compared to sleeping with him. Besides, she had no intention of telling anyone about that until after Saturday. If ever.

"You talked. All night. I—" She broke off, something like clarity gracing her features. "Well, I suppose for you two, that's actually believable. He wanted to kiss you though. I'd bet anything on it. The question is, did you want him to?"

Hermione huffed impatiently. "Gin, as lovely as this conversation is, I really _was_ up all night, with very little food, and I want to have some breakfast now. We've settled everything to your satisfaction, I hope."

"I suppose I believe you, but there are at least fifty people in there who probably won't. Especially every single Gryffindor who noticed you never came to the tower last night." She looped her arm through Hermione's elbow, and they started back for the Great Hall.

"The rumors will die away. There's nothing interesting to tell." Even in her own ears, she sounded like she was trying to convince herself.

Ginny snorted. "Right. As though Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy spending more than the required five minutes together isn't enough fodder as it is. Then you go and spend the entire night with him?"

"I didn't sleep with him—"

"But Hermione, you still spent _the whole night_ in his company. You can't tell me nothing has changed."

As though to make Ginny's point, her lips seemed to tingle with the memory of earlier that morning. The usual sounds of breakfast assaulted them as soon as Ginny opened the door to the Great Hall.

Hermione wondered if she'd have trouble spotting Draco, but she needn't have worried. She felt his gaze almost instantly, and their eyes met as she let Ginny direct her towards the Gryffindor table. They approached a group of Seventh Year girls who were talking closely. They all stopped as soon as Hermione sat down, eyeing her with curiosity and suspicion.

One girl sat up straight, apparently the one elected to confront her. "So, Hermione."

"Save it," Ginny bit out, piling food onto her plate.

The girl gave Ginny a tight look. "You got the info then?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "You'd do well to focus on yourself. Worry about your own problems, don't go looking for them in other people."

"That's great advice. But when one of ours is seen cavorting with a Slytherin—especially _that_ Slytherin—it's going to raise eyebrows. Draw attention. Start rumors."

"The whole point of last night was to speak to people we wouldn't normally speak to." She made a condescending face. "And I certainly wasn't _cavorting_. Perhaps you should know what you're saying before you speak."

The girl narrowed her eyes. "All of our house knows where you _weren't_ last night. It's only a matter of time before the whole school does, too."

Hermione frowned and forced herself to take a bite of something, even though she wasn't terribly hungry anymore. She really should have thought through the ramifications of spending so much time with Draco, but she'd simply been greedy for every minute with him. Now, though, it was apparent to her how foolish it had been. Of course it wouldn't pass unobserved. Everyone would put the pieces together and assume they'd slept together.

So much for taking things slowly. Hermione didn't really need the trip to Hogsmeade to know that she wanted to see where things led. It was more of a stall tactic, a way to keep their relationship secret just a little longer, to delay the moment they'd have to face the school. Well, she saw no point in waiting any longer now that she thought about it, now that she realized what everyone already thought. It was a delightful little scandal unlike any Hogwarts had seen in a very long time—although, Hermione had a sneaking suspicion that Harry was currently caught up in one of his own.

Without preamble, she stood up, drawing the attention of the girls she'd been sitting with and a few others as well. If it was truly only a matter of time before everyone heard some version of the truth, then there was really only one solution: address the problem head on, before the gossip could fester.

Hermione steeled herself and marched across the Great Hall towards the Slytherin table. She spotted Draco sitting at the end near the door, but he was still surrounded by his friends and fellow Eighth Years. Pansy was speaking to him furtively, her brow severely creased, her hands balled into fists. She was the first to spot Hermione, and she clamped her mouth shut, eyes narrowing as she leaned away from Draco.

"Lost, Granger?" Hermione heard a tinge of fear in the other girl's voice and wondered why.

Draco's head whipped up, his curious gaze meeting hers. But it wasn't only Draco. Theo, Blaise, Daphne, Goyle, and Tracey all looked at her as well. She clenched her fists, her heart beating rapidly, and she forced herself to take a few slow breaths. Draco was on the opposite side of the table from where she stood, but since he was on the end, it wouldn't be difficult to get close to him.

Then, inspiration struck. "Oh, I was just talking to Harry."

Pansy blanched, eyes flying wide and then narrowing. Blaise elbowed Theo, and they shared a conspiratorial look. Everyone had seen her kiss Harry the night before, and nobody knew what happened once they'd left the Great Hall. Hermione could pretend she did, though. It was highly unlikely the rumors about her and Draco had reached the Slytherin table already.

"Why should we care?" Daphne rolled her eyes over dramatically.

Pansy shot her friend a glare.

Hermione shrugged and started walking around the table. All seven sets of eyes followed her. Draco seemed frozen. The problem was, she had no plan. She'd hoped to simply march over here, kiss Draco very publicly, and bear the fallout. But then Pansy had spoken to her, flustering her resolve and setting her mind spinning. Now she was thinking too much, and she stopped a few feet from Draco.

"What did you want, Granger?" Blaise asked, a knowing smirk on his face that unsettled her. It seemed nearly impossible that nobody had noticed his absence.

She wondered how observant the Slytherins were, if anybody had noticed Draco's absence.

"Yeah, Granger." Theo leaned forward, his elbows on the table. "I'm sure whatever you came over here for was really important. Or didn't you, uh, get it all out of your system last night?"

Blaise almost spit out his tea. Pansy looked thoroughly confused. Possibly no one had told her about who Draco had left the Great Hall with.

It occurred to her in that instant that Draco might not appreciate her kissing him here, in front of all his friends. She was fairly certain she'd hate it if the situation were reversed, and she had just decided to leave, knowing they'd all laugh at her, when Draco stood up.

"I've got studying to do."

"Oh, do you, Draco?" The grin on Blaise's face was practically predatory. "It's Saturday. Relax, mate."

"No, I've got a better idea." Theo sat up and glanced from Draco to Blaise. "Let's go flying. The biting February air would really wake us up after a long, restful sleep. There are plenty of hours for studying later."

They knew. They had to. At least, they suspected something, and they were trying to pester Draco about it. She was so tired; all she could think about was sleep, and Draco had to be feeling the same. There was no possible way he could—

"Sure. Fine." Draco's tone was clipped, and she wondered why he'd agreed. "I'll just go get my broom. See you out there in fifteen."

Without another glance at them, he turned to her, their eyes meeting. He was going to just walk past her, completely ignore her. Whatever Blaise and Theo thought they knew about whatever he'd done with her the night before, they'd have to conclude that it had meant nothing to him.

"Wait, Draco." She reached out for his arm, halting him before he really got to her.

A lot of things happened at once.

Goyle stood up, wand in hand, his expression livid. Blaise smacked Theo's chest with the back of his hand, both of them looking as though Christmas had come again. Daphne gasped and brought a hand up to her mouth, her eyes wide. Pansy's eyes narrowed in on where Hermione's hand rested on Draco's arm. Tracey snatched Goyle's wand, grabbed him by the collar of his robes, and yanked him back down into his seat.

Meanwhile, Draco's eyes never left hers. She could tell he was curious, but also very guarded. "Yes?"

Hermione felt suddenly nervous. Here she was, in front of his friends, with no plan and no ideas, not even a functioning brain. She bit her lip, and he frowned slightly, as though trying to understand what she wasn't saying.

"I, um, was thinking that... today would be alright." Merlin, that was vague. How was she supposed to communicate to him that she was fine with telling everyone now—as in, right now, this instant, he could kiss her, and would he please?

"Today what?" Theo repeated, his voice almost giddy.

Draco shot him a look of pure loathing.

Blaise grinned. "Yeah, Granger. Today's good for what?"

She refused to look at Draco for help. That would only make them even more intolerable.

"Get your hands off him," Goyle snarled.

Draco spun around, eyes blazing. "Enough." He turned back to her, an expression she couldn't read on his face. "Now, Granger, what did you want?"

Closing her eyes briefly, she took a steadying breath, forcing all thoughts from her head. Then, before she could change her mind or think about it, she launched herself at Draco, flinging her arms around his neck, one hand gripping the base of his head and pulling him toward her. She heard an angry growl and a delighted whoop as her lips met his, and she hoped he wouldn't be too angry with her for the very public display.

For an instant, she thought he was too livid to move, but then his hands were on her back, holding her awkwardly in place, as his lips began to move hesitantly over hers.

It wasn't long before the entire Hall erupted in sound, first the Eighth Year Slytherins cheered, drawing the attention of those nearby, before it spread out like ripples through the room. There were whistles and clapping, as well as shouts of disbelief and even anger.

They didn't kiss for long, and she was shaking from head to toe when she ended it, terrified of looking into his eyes. The noise level was still very high as she dragged her gaze up to meet his, knowing she couldn't avoid him forever. To her great relief, he was smiling down at her in amusement.

"You're going to be full of surprises, aren't you?"

She shrugged sheepishly. "My whole house thinks we slept together. I didn't think there was any point in pretending _nothing_ happened."

His eyes went wide. "They what?"

Just then, Blaise clapped a hand on Draco's shoulder, nodding at Hermione with genuine respect in his eyes. "Well, mate. I can't blame you for not coming back all night." He waggled his eyebrows at Hermione. "I mean, fuck yes."

Draco's cheeks went pink. "I'm not... we didn't..."

Theo slung his arm around Draco's neck, smirking at all the students trying to get another look at Draco and Hermione. Then he clapped him on the chest. "Well done, mate. A good night's work, I'd say."

Hermione was torn between being mortified and angry, and she was about to say something when Draco beat her to it.

"I don't know what you're on about, but nothing happened last night."

Blaise and Theo exchanged a disbelieving look. "Right, and Granger, here, just randomly decided to kiss you at breakfast."

"We didn't... Erm. We just talked." It sounded lame, and she knew it. But it _was_ the truth.

Blaise guffawed. "Right. You just _talked_. We all saw you two dance, knew you'd been sequestered at your table, then watched you leave together." He pulled at the sleeve of Draco's shirt. "You're still wearing yesterday's clothes, and the girl just kissed you."

"Not to mention, he kissed her back." Theo grinned like the cat who got the cream. "I definitely saw that."

Draco growled, but Hermione noticed that Blaise and Theo seemed completely unconcerned with who she was. They were merely interested in teasing Draco, and she felt a little better, a bit more relaxed than she'd been a moment earlier. Only Goyle seemed genuinely angry about Hermione being close to Draco, and she didn't know the state of their friendship.

Then Blaise held out a hand to Hermione, who shook it somewhat warily. "Well done, Granger. Merlin, he's needed to get laid all year. Didn't see you coming, but that's alright."

Hermione blushed and Draco shoved his friend hard in the shoulder. "We didn't do any of that, you wanker. We talked. Something you're too much of a dick to appreciate."

Blaise shrugged nonchalantly. "If given the choice, mate, I'd rank talking all night a very distant second."

Draco opened his mouth to speak again, but then Hermione was grabbed from behind and pulled away. To her surprise, Ginny was the one who'd grabbed her, and when she'd managed to get Hermione far enough away, she crossed her arms and glared.

"What were you saying again about your night last night? I mean, you said you only talked, but here you are, kissing Malfoy?" She glanced back toward the Gryffindor table. "I threatened Harry and Ron with my Bat-Bogey Hex if they make a scene, so I don't think you need to worry about them right now. But they're going to have questions."

Hermione sighed. "I didn't want to say anything. I wasn't ready. We were going to wait until we'd gotten a little further along to tell, but after hearing that everyone assumes we slept together... I didn't see the point in waiting. Why deny anything happened all week, only to go out together Saturday?"

Ginny was nodding. "That makes sense. but why didn't you tell _me_ before going off and kissing him in front of the whole school? Everyone is talking about it. Even the teachers!"

A glance toward the staff table confirmed this for Hermione. "What do you want me to say? A lot has happened in the last half a day, I'm running on no sleep, I'm excited and confused and completely unprepared for this."

"I understand." Ginny gave her a sympathetic look, the anger finally gone. "It's been a lot for me, too. But I don't want to talk about that yet. I want to know what happens now."

"Now?" Both girls started at the voice; Blaise Zabini had crept up behind Ginny without either of them noticing. "Now, it's open season on Gryffindors." He slung his arm casually across Ginny's shoulder and winked. "What do you say, Red? You and me? Hogsmeade Saturday?"

Ginny's cheeks were practically the same color as her hair. She took one glance toward the Gryffindor table and saw Harry looking over at the Slytherin table. Hermione felt a twinge of sympathy for her friend, even though Ginny and Harry had never quite gotten on the same page. It seemed they were now further than ever from that. But despite Blaise's confident demeanor, there was something in his eyes that told Hermione there was more to this casual invitation than met the eye.

Ginny shrugged Blaise off, then turned to look him up and down. Blaise didn't balk under the scrutiny; on the contrary, he seemed amused by it and his smirk only grew wider. She crossed her arms finally and nodded. "You fly?"

Blaise glanced at Draco, and she knew he must play in the Friday night unsanctioned Quidditch matches. "Oh, here and there."

"I'll think about it, Zabini. Let you know at dinner."

"Right. I'll be here." He grinned at her, nodded to Hermione, then returned to his friends. As Hermione watched him go, her eyes eventually connected with Draco's, and he smiled—actually smiled—at her.

"What were you saying?" Hermione turned on Ginny with a sly grin.

Ginny was red once more. "That was... unexpected."

"Do you fancy him? At all?"

"I've never thought about it." Ginny glanced toward the small cluster of Slytherins who, after the startling kiss, were still milling about, not interested in returning to the table but not anxious to leave the Great Hall, either. "He's awfully fit, though. Look at his arse. It's fabulous in those trousers. Thank Merlin it's a weekend and I got to see that before making my decision."

"Gin!" Hermione shook her head. "Have you ever even talked to him before just now?"

"Why would I need to talk to him? I think he's attractive, so maybe we'll go on a date." She licked her lips. "Not everybody needs, what, twelve hours of conversation before they decide they like someone."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "It didn't take me twelve hours. Once I got over the utter shock of learning I'd been talking to Draco for hours, I realized I wanted to talk to him even more. And one thing led to another..."

"Please just tell me your first kiss wasn't in front of the whole school."

"No. He kissed me in the Quidditch stands." A smile slipped onto her face without a thought. She couldn't possibly think of that moment without feeling all fluttery and wishing it could happen again. When she'd kissed him just now, it had been fueled more by adrenaline and determination, but now that the shock had passed, she wouldn't mind getting him alone in an empty classroom.

Ginny pointed at her, grinning triumphantly. "You just thought about kissing him again, didn't you?"

Hermione huffed. "So what if I did? I'm allowed, aren't I?"

"I suppose you are." Ginny peered back at Blaise, who was watching her even as he talked with his friends.

"Well, I ought to go to bed." As if on cue, she yawned. "I'm exhausted."

"I bet you are. _Talking_ all night can really wear a person down."

Hermione sent her a glare. "I'm pretty sure it's the 'all night' part."

Ginny started to say something, then her eyes went wide and she shut her mouth.

Hermione didn't have time to ask what was happening because before she could, Draco's was at her side. Her heart started racing, and she unconsciously leaned towards him very slightly, enjoying his presence so near. Merlin, what a start to things.

"Malfoy." Ginny inclined her head very slightly.

He shifted his weight somewhat self-consciously. "Weasley. Listen, Granger, am I going to be subjected to some kind of dressing down by—" He stopped mid-thought with a wary glance at Ginny.

"By Harry and my brother, you mean?" She crossed her arms, narrowing her eyes to a glare. "Probably. But keep one thing in mind. Whatever they eventually say to you? It's nothing compared to what I'll do."

Draco merely raised an eyebrow. "I'm trembling. However, your threat is noted. I'm not scared of either of them, but I could be persuaded to take you seriously. Not that I plan on doing... whatever it is you're alluding to."

"Don't screw up. It's very simple."

"Fine. I won't if she won't." He faced her right back, undaunted.

Ginny started to respond but then what he'd said sank in fully. "Oh. Well, I mean, you know. Don't be an arse."

"Ah. Yes, that's much clearer."

Ginny huffed and turned back to Hermione. "You can be sure they'll have questions. Don't be too upset if Ron threatens bodily harm. Or if he suspects foul play."

Draco rolled his eyes.

"I'll go handle Harry and Ron, keep them away a bit longer. But I wouldn't linger. I'll see you around." Ginny gave Hermione's arm a squeeze, and with a final warning look at Malfoy, she headed back to the Gryffindor table.

Now she was alone with Draco again, and almost every eye in the hall was on them; the hubbub had died down when Draco had crossed to her.

"Want to get out of here?" he asked with a sheepish half-smile.

"Merlin, yes, please. Let's go." She spun towards the door and started walking.

After a few seconds, he caught up with her, and to her delight, he took her hand. "Where are you headed?"

"My room. I'm beyond tired. I'm so tired it hurts." He continued to hold her hand as she began ascending the stairs towards Gryffindor tower. "Are you seriously going to go flying right now?"

"I'm not sure. Sleep sounds awfully nice." He rubbed the back of his head and stifled a yawn. "Can I walk you to your common room?"

"Of course." She blushed slightly and turned her face away to hide it. "Are you really not concerned about Harry and Ron?"

He scoffed. "No. I'm not. Besides, I don't think they'd risk _your_ wrath."

"Excellent point." She grinned for a moment, then let it slip. "I hope you weren't too upset about... Back there."

"You mean, when you went against what you'd said less than an hour earlier?" He smirked. "Why would I be upset?"

"I'm serious."

"So am I. I don't mind. I wasn't exactly excited at the prospect of what comes next, at least with regards to the school, but—" He held up their joined hands. "I get to do this out in the open much sooner than I expected."

Hermione nodded. "I don't even want to think about anything else. I'll tell Harry and Ron when I have to. If I'm lucky, they'll find out while we're sleeping and I'll avoid the brunt of Ron's anger."

"Will it be a problem, you think? I don't want you going through something unpleasant like dealing with an angry friend over us."

They reached the floor where the entrance to the Gryffindor common room was. Hermione wasn't quite sure what the protocol was, having never needed to consider what to do about revealing the location to someone in a different house.

Draco seemed to sense her hesitation and paused on the landing. "I suppose this is where we part? Can't have me knowing that your common room is down the hall a bit, behind that portrait of a woman in a bright pink dress?"

Her eyes flew wide. "How do you know?"

"Come on, it's not like it's hard to figure these things out." With a slight tug, he led her to a little alcove where they could converse without being in the open. "Are you telling me you don't know where the other common rooms are?"

"Well, I... have a general idea where yours is, and I've been in Ravenclaw tower. During the war. I know Hufflepuff is near the kitchen." It was slightly distracting the way this alcove made it feel like they were somewhere completely alone and secluded. Not to mention, they were very, _very_ close.

Draco nodded thoughtfully, letting her hand go so he could lean against the wall facing her. "Not like I could ever get in yours, of course. I think they have strict rules about that. I'm not sure she'd let me in even if I had the password."

"I should hope not." She clapped her hands at her back and scooted until she touched the wall behind her. Draco was watching her with something like amusement and intent, and she didn't have long to try and puzzle out what that intent might be. In one smooth motion, he pushed himself from the wall, crossed to her in two strides, and kissed her. Wrapping one arm around her waist, he used the other to tip her chin up. Her arms were still somewhat pinned behind her, and he pressed into her, quickly sliding his tongue along the seam of her lips. This kiss was different from all those that had preceded it—not that there had been many to compare it to. But he seemed more urgent, frantic, and more sure than he had been before.

It was delicious attention, and she arched into him, eager for all of his considered ministrations. She managed to get her arms free and gripped his shirt once again. It would surely leave wrinkles. She wondered if he'd care—or even notice. His kisses were becoming more demanding, and Hermione sighed as she met each fervent press of his lips with an equally desperate one of her own. Before she knew it, her hands had snaked around him completely, and she flattened her palms against his back, feeling the taut muscles there.

Merlin, how much Quidditch had they been playing?

Draco kept one hand firmly gripping her waist, and the other was planted on the wall beside her head. She was snogging Draco Malfoy in an alcove outside the Gryffindor common room. It didn't last long, though, because they heard voices and quickly scrambled out of sight. While they waited for whoever it was to pass, Hermione yawned.

"We should sleep." Draco nudged his head toward the portrait. Then he stood up straight and held out his hand.

Hermione took it with a sigh. "This is real, isn't it? I'm not going to wake up and find that it was all a dream?"

"I hope not. That would be awfully disappointing."

They reached the portrait hole, and Hermione released him. "Well, um, I would say goodnight, but it's barely nine in the morning."

"I know what you mean. Sleep well, Granger." He leaned in and kissed her lightly.

"Yes. You too." She smiled as he walked away.

He turned around just before he descended out of sight and gave her a small wave.

When she was all settled in her bed, exhaustion swept over her, but she fell asleep with a smile on her face, looking forward to what the day would bring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a line in here that is taken from Star Trek IV, "The Voyage Home." When Ginny asks Blaise, "You fly?" and he responds, "Oh, here and there."


End file.
